Brewing Glory
by WalpurgisWitch
Summary: Damocles Belby was once a wizard from a respectable pureblooded family, a legendary potioneer responsible for Wolfsbane potion and rising in the Dark Lord's ranks. That was until his mother's affairs with muggles became dinner party gossip. Meanwhile, in the depths of the Wizarding War, his daughter is the only chance that Damocles can exonerate his dishonoured family name.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This fan fiction is eventually going to lead into an alternate universe but currently is a minefield of OC characters. Forgive me for rusty writing.

* * *

Chapter One – Porridge and Politics

5th October 1980

Damocles rustled open his Daily Prophet at the breakfast table. His shovel-like hands dwarfing its headlines and moving photographs. His daughter, Eris, was sluggishly spooning porridge into her mouth while staring absent-mindedly into the distance.

Damocles cleared his throat and his eyes darted onto one article, His daughter rubbed her eyes and scouted her father's interest.

"Daddy, what is it?" Eris squeaked, clanging her spoon into her half-empty bowl.

Damocles dropped his newspaper on top of his buttered toast, "That Longbottom couple have gone missing."

"Oh, you mean, Alice? Last I heard of her, she was pregnant," Eris took another spoonful of porridge.

"Well, surprisingly enough, Eris, childbirth occurs after pregnancy. Their newborn son is missing as well."

Eris lowered her head before uttering, "I think we've lost count of how many wizards have disappeared since this war thing started happening…"

"You know full well why those blood traitor Longbottoms went missing. The Dark Lord does not spill our sort of blood unless provoked, Eris."

"Yes… but you know that our blood might not be-"

Bang! Damocles bashed his fist on the oak table in protest, "I don't care about these allegations of adultery those kids in Hogwarts have been spitting out about my beloved mother! There's no way that my father was a filthy muggle." Damocles' nostrils flared in rage before he continued, "Why does you always bring it up, Eris? We all know those vile lies and rumours have pissed all over our family name!"

Eris grasped her spoon tighter, "But-"

"There's no need to be stupid, girl! We all know why you can't marry a good pureblooded boy is due to scandal and gossip. No matter how many bloody potions I create, no matter how many times you look good in ballgowns – we're not one of… them anymore."

Eris traced her spoon around the edge of her bowl in silence while she drowned out another early morning rant by her cantankerous father. She seemed to infuriate her father, no matter what. From being sorted into Ravenclaw like her estranged uncle, to only getting an Exceeds Expectations in her Potions O.W.L; whatever she did was met with a tirade of disapproval. She followed her father's command in social climbing out of his mother's illicit scandal but failed at each turn. Sleeping with Regulus Black was not the same as marrying him. Having a coveted Ministry of Magic interview next week was not the same as being beckoned by the Dark Lord into his inner circle. Her freckled arm remained just as free of black ink as her father's.

"-Are you listening to me, Eris?!" Her father barked through the haze of his daydreaming daughter.

Eris shook her head, her messy curls bouncing, "Yes? Erm… pardon?"

Damocles moved the newspaper away from him before asking, "Have you tried, you know… getting in contact with…" he lowered his voice, "you-know-who recently?"

She folded her arms, "You don't just waltz in and make an appointment with the Dark Lord! You must know!"

"There's no need to patronise me, Eris. I'm well aware that I can't get called… again. An old moribund man like myself can't fight wars."

"Daddy, you're not moribund! The Healer told you it was years… not months."

Damocles raised a single eyebrow, "You come to learn one thing in this life, Eris….it should be to never trust a Healer." He punctuated his point by taking a loud bite into his burnt buttered toast.

Eris sighed and picked up the abandoned newspaper. The butter and grease from lying on the toast bled through the first three pages. She brushed off the crumbs and started reading in silence on page four.

"AURORS HUNT DOWN DARK WIZARD EVADING ARREST," Eris' brow furrowed, "Jonathan Wilkes was suspected of being associated with He Who Must Not Be Named and evaded detection from aurors until the 29th of October where he was successfully detained. However, after resisting arrest and seriously maiming his captors, he was killed in self-defence."

She whimpered, "Wilkes…. Is dead?"

Damocles huffed, "You really are ignorant, girl."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two – 34 Cherryclough Lane**

 _5th October 1980_

Eris returned to her bedroom swiftly after breakfast. She was trying her best to ignore the uneasy pang in her stomach after hearing about the disappearance and death of her classmates. It had been something she had to adapt to recently, especially when her muggle-born Ravenclaw brethren had already starting fleeing the country.

She sat at her neatly arranged desk and poked her scrying orb with her wand. The grey smoke in the orb briefly turned a shocking pink. Unbeknownst to her father, she was planning to sneak out and visit one of her oldest friends, Cathy Morrell. As much as her father despised 'out-and-proud' halfbloods, Eris could not quite gather the nerve to denounce Cathy from her social circle. Cathy, a fellow Ravenclaw hissed at the haughty gang of Slytherins with the same disgust as the brazen Gryffindors. While, Eris may have talked to Slytherins in class or around the halls; Cathy was always two steps behind heckling or pulling faces.

Luckily, Eris was good at keeping secrets so her firewhiskey-fuelled midnight fumblings with Rosier or Regulus Black were just embarrassing clandestine memories and not ammunition for banter. Never mind being on speaking terms to the Slytherin gang since graduation.

Twirling her wand and jumping clumsily out of her seat, she braced herself before apparating. Her grey eyes slammed shut and she focused on the familiar semi-detached muggle houses Cathy called home. She plunged into pitch blackness, being tightened and squeezed from every angle and suddenly collapsed onto a patch of weeds in Cathy's garden. She pulled herself up with the mossy garden fence, wincing as splinters entered her fingertips and limped to knock on the back door. It'd been a while since she visited Cathy, a whole year in fact.

Before her fist tapped the PVC door twice, it swung open and out bounced a familiar face. The raven-haired Cathy leapt and tightly hugged the frozen Eris. Eris' splintered hand nervously tapping her friend's back.

Cathy caught her breath and sighed, "You escaped your dictator dad, then?"

Eris brushed her coppery curls from her face, "I suppose so…. So how's life, Cathy?"

Cathy smiled and ushered her friend inside, "Good, good, good…." Both of them entered the kitchen, a place that confused Eris. Filled with wires, plug sockets and electronic equipment; all of which were exceptionally foreign to her. "I've got another date with that new guy I've been telling you about…"

"You mean the… _muggle_?"

"Yes, Eris. I mean the muggle. You should consider it… your grandmother knew that muggles are always better!"

Eris' eyes narrowed, "Don't mention her again. I had enough of my dad rattling on about that family scandal over breakfast!"

"Oh please, Eris!" Cathy chuckled, "He's been rattling on about that nonsense since sixth year. So what if his father was a muggle? Mine is and I'm being promoted next week at the Ministry."

"I'd keep your muggle rendezvous quiet, Cathy."

"Oh, and why is that? Is there anything wrong with muggles?" Cathy folded her arms.

"I-I-I… I'm just concerned as a friend that you might be targeted by… _certain_ people."

Both Cathy and Eris settled down and sat at the dining table. Cathy looked at Eris and replied, "You mean by _him?_ The precious Dark Lord? That vile old excuse for a wizard…." Cathy gritted her teeth.

Eris sighed, "I mean… if you get caught saying that in front of the wrong people, it might be your name in a Daily Prophet article, Cathy."

"I'm willing to take that chance," she crossed her legs and placed her curled fist onto the table.

Eris tried her best to change to subject, "So how did you find out about the promotion?"

Cathy frowned and ignored her friend's train of thought, "You are a great friend, Eris, but I'm frightened for you."

Eris' asked dryly, "Why?"

"I remember you back in Hogwarts. Friends with those slimy Slytherin boys and girls when I wasn't looking. Whispering about blood purity, balls and that bastard you call the Dark Lord."

Eris' hand fiddled with her hair, "And-?"

"I'm scared that you'll become one of _them_."

Eris looked at her hands and uttered in hushed tones, "There are worse things I could be."

"Like what, Eris?"

"Dead."

"Do you like hating muggles?"

Eris gulped, "No," her hands contorted into a nervous knot, "but I can't upset my father."

"Run away from him, then! You're of age. Why don't you do a Sirius Black and leg it to a mate's? You're always welcome here."

"Thanks for the offer but… I can't upset my father," Eris insisted, resting her hands flat on the table surface.

Cathy folded her arms and slumped angrily down into her chair, "As much as I can be prepared to wait, I just don't want to see you get destroyed by some aristocratic pureblood fools. Just because your crazy father tells you to think something doesn't make it right. He's as messed up as the rest of us, Eris."

"Yes, but he's doing his best for me."

"His best for you?" Cathy guffawed, "The man tried to marry you off to inbred pure bloods with faces like smacked arses. He grounded you for a month when you asked him about going out with a half blood. The man's insane!"

"I know, but he's… dying."

The conversation halted into an achingly-painful silence with Cathy's hazel eyes occasionally offering a sympathetic glance. Eris fiddled with stray cat hairs on her robe and Cathy walked towards the kettle to boil water.

"Want a cup of tea?" Cathy asked as her footsteps crunched over the warped linoleum.

"Oh," Eris' face curled up in disgust, "No thanks, you know I hate tea." Then their remaining half-hour consisted of fickle small talk broken by awkward pauses.

After saying her quiet goodbyes to Cathy and apparating back home, Eris was glad to evade another hour of difficult conversation. She slumped on her four-poster bed and banged her head on the pillow. This was yet another dull unemployed Saturday accompanied by disappointed family and friends. At least a new job would be an excuse to avoid the delight of her father's company for eight hours.

She heard his thunderous footsteps race down the staircase. For such an ill man, he did enjoy running about like a herd of elephants. Despite his lethal potions accident and various misdiagnoses in St Mungo's; he had about two years left of life in him according to his healer. His grey hair had fallen out and only a greasy scalp remained. His once corpulent frame had dwindled and his legs were twig-like, his cheeks were hollowed and his complexion had dulled. His time was coming but they didn't know exactly when.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three – Amortentia**

 _6th October 1980_

It was officially Monday and the long-awaited day of her Ministry interview. She primped and primed her interview technique, pinned up her stubborn curls and tried to scrub some colour back into her cheeks. Her father had been bellowing questions across the dinner table last night only to retort with negative feedback with each squeaked reply. Just as always.

After one last glance in the mirror, Eris raced down the stairs for breakfast. Her feet rattled the wonky floorboards until she arrived into the kitchen and sat at the table.

"So…. So…. So… our Eris has an important interview today," her father sauntered in with a smirk on his face, "how are you going to mess it up this time? Set the whole Ministry on fire?"

She groaned and replied, "I only set one book on fire in Flourish and Blotts and it wasn't my fault."

Her father's face wiped over with smug satisfaction before placing another bowl of porridge in front of his daughter. "At least you'll have some breakfast in you, this time." He plonked it down at the table and opened up his newly delivered copy of the Daily Prophet. He scanned it and quickly rustled by each page. His daughter watched him while swallowing spoonfuls of breakfast. His eyes screeched to a halt, his shoulders slumped and his hands shook clutching onto the tabloid.

"Daddy, what is it now?" Eris quivered.

Damocles slammed the newspaper onto the table. He stared at it in stony silence with his jaw clenching. "Another werewolf attack last night."

Eris dropped her spoon into the bowl, looked away from the damning article and wrapped her arms around herself. This was the only topic worse than blood purity to be emblazoned in black and white print. Bloody werewolves. They were responsible for so much pain in her life.

Damocles bit his lip and hissed, "Those bastards are scourge of the Wizarding kind."

Eris remained silent, her eyes avoiding the searing gaze of her father. Werewolves were more taboo than anything in this house. Something else she had to keep quiet about, she supposed.

"When your poor mother got bitten, I did everything I could. Everything I could before she- it- happened. But after she died, I made a cure for that lycanthrope lot. And do any of those scum take it? Ha! No chance, filthy buggers…" he grumbled and scratched at the table surface.

She still remained silent, hoping that her lack of response would dampen his rage. But it never did, it was a waiting game until he burnt out and moved on to the article on the next page. She ran away to the retreat of her mind whilst her father bellowed yet another cookie-cuttie rant about his hard valiant efforts to end the curse of lycanthropy even after his wife's suicide. She dreamt of her care-free days in Hogwarts, excelling in classes and her embarrassing and awkward fumbles with boys she daren't tell her father about. A wry smile crept upon her face.

"AND WHAT ARE YOU SMIRKING AT YOUNG LADY?"

She leapt a little in her seat, she conjured up an excuse on the spot, "I was just thinking how excited I am for my interview at the Ministry of Mysteries."

"Well… all that tea-leaves reading, star-gazing and card playing best come to some use girl. Imagine my daughter," a fleeting glimmer of a proud smile crept upon his face, "an Unspeakable."

"Yes, has not happened yet, daddy. Don't put all your eggs in one basket. I might be burning books or other shop stock for the rest of my life," Eris dryly noted before rising from her seat.

"You'd better not."

* * *

Eris stepped onto the fireplace, her polished boots became caked in dust. She grabbed a fistful of familiar glimmering dust, threw it down herself in flourish and bellowed, "Ministry of Magic." In an instant, she saw other fireplaces whizz through her vision, feeling no gravity until she arrived in the tiled atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

She noted by the lack of muttering bodies throughout the atrium that it was after commuting time by 10:00am. Only her footsteps echoed in the tiled halls and she spotted a solitary man waiting for her.

Rookwood had greasy grey hair and a pock-marked face. His narrow-shoulders tensed as Eris stepped closer to him before he uttered, "You must be applicant number eight, Miss Eris Dittany Belby."

"Yes, sir," Eris offered her hand.

Rookwood shook his head in disapproval at her outstretched and beckoned her to follow him, "Well qualified as always, you Ravenclaws."

Eris blinked in silence as she tried to keep up with Rookwood's rapid pace.

"Your outstanding grades are not the only requirements for this… position."

"I am aware of that, sir," Eris mumbled, gripping her cloak sleeve.

"As the letter forewarned you, you are to be interviewed by me at half past ten."

"Until then, you shall accompany me. Accompany me to my office."

"Where's that, then?"

Rookwood turned around and sneered, "On the ninth level where everything else important is."

Rookwood gestured towards a lift and Eris followed. The doors slammed shut and they quickly exited towards another darkly tiled hallway. After racing down this dimly-lit windowless hallway, they entered the most peculiar and elaborate entrance.

Eris' feet skidded to a halt on the dark marble floor as she look slack-jawed at the twelve doors in front of her. Eris suddenly felt Rookwood's sweaty palm grab her shaking hand and he dragged her along with him. He looked at the fourth handleless door and yelled, "Exit!" It opened and they both entered into the Department of Mysteries. Rookwood suddenly stopped and pulled out a brass key and twisted it around a lock and a sole oak door opened.

The smell of Amortentia overpowered Eris. The smell of freesia, old books and pewter cauldrons smouldering in the air. They both entered into a surprisingly small room. A single fountain of iridescent liquid stood in the centre of the room. She heard the click of Rookwood locking them both in.

"We call this the Love chamber."

"Huh," Eris responded while her eyes stared into her warped reflection in the potion.

"I'm not in charge of naming the rooms, I'm not quite so romantic," he continued pacing around the fountain.

"So, what is being researched in here?"

"It's namesake."

"Anything specific?"

Rookwood sighed, "Truthfully, we don't know what love is. It is some primitive magic that we can't emulate. We can brew limerence," he pointed at the Amortentia, "but we can't create love."

"Have you found anything else out about it from research?"

Rookwood smiled, "Always with the questions, you Ravenclaws."

Eris gulped, "Can you handle one more question?"

"Go ahead."

"Why did you take me in here?"

Rookwood stepped closer, his eyes roving from her grey eyes to her chapped lips. Eris looked back nervously with her teeth biting her lip. "I just wanted to show you something," his voice softened.

Eris' back straightened, "The amortentia…"

"-Yes?"

"How long has it been here?"

"Long enough," he edged closer to her. His hand scrapped her thigh.

"This isn't an interview, is it?" Eris squeaked.

"No," he smirked, "but you'll get the job if you do me a favour." His sweaty palm sweeping her buttock. His head looming over hers.

"What happens if I don't?"

"Unemployment." Eris responded by raising an eyebrow so Rookwood continued, "-and a black mark against your name for other Ministry jobs."

Her incisors pierced her lip. Her dream job, all at the hands of an aged pervert caressing her arse. But she was desperate. Desperate to prove herself. Rookwood lunged at her, his wet lips scrapping against her dried ones. His teeth clumsily clashing against her own, his hand routing down her robe. Eris' mind escaped from the tactile torture her lips and breasts were experiencing. His sweaty palms gripped like a vice on her right breast, a jolt of pain twinged to her torso.

She moved on to unbuttoning his robe and her hand sliding around his inner thigh. His teeth clashed against her more furiously as his tongue darted in and out of her mouth like a lizard. Her palm reached his crotch, soft. Rookwood threw her against the wall and continued to slather on her neck as Eris' hand continued to rub against him.

His frustration built as his arousal failed. His hands grabbed her hair, pulling out the pins and exposed one of her breasts. Her hand reached directly into his underwear. He pushed her away.

"STOP! Just stop!" Rookwood bellowed, adjusting himself and rebuttoning his robes.

Eris looked puzzled and tucked away her exposed breast. Her hair half-pinned hung over her face.

"The job's still yours, Belby. If you keep your pretty gob shut about what happened in here."

"Yes, sir,"

Rookwood shoved the brass key back into the lock, "It's not my fault you know. The cruciatus curse sometimes has that err… effect."

Eris remained composed as Rookwood escorted her out but she spent the rest of the evening sniggering. All made sweeter by an acceptance letter penned by an embarrassed Rookwood being owled to her at midnight.

* * *

Tuesday morning arrived and Eris bounced downstairs armed with her acceptance letter to the breakfast table. Her father unenthusiastically greeted her, "Good morning."

"But daddy, look-" she waved the letter in his face.

Damocles snatched it and his eyes darted across the parchment, soaking in each word. A wry smile crept upon his face, "So you're now officially an Unspeakable Apprentice."

Eris grinned, "Yes!"

Damocles tutted as he sat down, "Always expected you to be a Healer or something, but this will have to do."

Eris' eyes sunk and she plopped down onto her chair. "Pray father, what is wrong with being an Unspeakable?"

Damocles paused before resting his hand on the table, "It is weak magic. Star-gazing and theories, all weak magic. I remember when you had your face nose deep in our family library all those years ago."

"Dark Arts aren't the only magic field," Eris grumbled.

"But the best one," he replied.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four – Bridesmaid**

 _7th October 1980_

Eris was still awaiting her first day of work with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. For all she knew, Rookwood might discover a cure for impotence and her services may include more than organising his paperwork and arranging his meetings. She was more puzzled by why Rookwood had experienced one of the unforgiveable curses and seemed so blasé about it. Eris' knowledge was limited to textbooks describing the unimaginable searing pain it caused. The only people that used the unforgiveable curses were aurors and Death Eaters. Or perhaps Rookwood had another kink bar feeling up young witches.

Eris glared at her scrying orb, trying to find meaning in the clouds of grey. But nothing came. She heard a rapping knock on her door before her father swung the door open.

Eris scowled, "You're supposed to wait after you knock."

Damocles ignored her anger, "You've got a letter," he held out a white envelope. "Person has a strange taste in stationery." He handed his daughter the crisp white envelope before leaving, her door still wide open. Eris frowned and slammed the door shut before returning to her desk.

 _That damn Cathy must have used muggle envelopes again_ , thought Eris as she looked at Cathy's ornate handwriting in biro ink on the envelope. She peeled open the letter, penned on lined paper and red-inked scrawl.

 _Dear Eris,_

 _I have some exciting news I want to share with you as soon as possible! I'm at home all day, come whenever you can. Won't spoilt it until you come. Hurry up. I need to ask you a favour too. Please come dressed like a normal human, I have muggles in company._

 _Love Cathy_

 _P.S congratulations on your Ministry Job too._

She sighed and dropped the letter back onto her desk. _Bloody Cathy, bet she just wants to boast about her amazing new job_ , Eris thought to herself before getting out of her chair. Opening her wardrobe with a flick of her wand, she picked out the least offensive muggle clothing she had available. The jeans were baggier than the last time she wore them, her diet of porridge and eggs was probably to blame for that.

Slinking down the hallway, the stairs and towards the back door, she crouched in her back garden before imagining 34 Cherryclough Lane once more. Her wand tightening around her hand.

* * *

She fell again whilst apparating to Cathy's garden but this time her face was buried in soil and pansies. Before she turned her face out of a mud, she heard a thundering voice.

"You keep ruining my pansies, you do, girl," said Cathy's father. A short muggle man with an affinity for gardening. He smirked as Eris struggled to pull herself up. He looked at her face, wiping it with a cloth, "I wouldn't keep doing your abracadabra stuff here you know, she's got… muggle company."

Eris' brow furrowed as she brushed the rest of the mud from her knees before entering Cathy's kitchen.

Instantly, she heard the familiar cackle of young women twittering over mugs of tea. Her friend Cathy brushing the hair from her face as two muggle women sat with her.

"Oh, Eris!" Cathy beamed and jumped from her seat, "I'm so glad you came!"

Eris offered a weak smile before sitting down, a whole seat away from the muggles. "So tell me, what news was so important to disturb my lie in?" Eris smirked.

"Oh! Big big news on the Cathy front! I'm engaged."

Eris sat there in slack-jawed silence.

"Me and that local boy are getting married."

"Oh," Eris looked at the two muggle girls and she swallowed her contempt, "good news, Cathy."

Cathy frowned, "Girls, I'm just going to chat to Eris alone upstairs for a bit. Is that alright?" Both of the muggle girls agreed.

Both Cathy and Eris pulled themselves up the steep carpeted stairway into Cathy's bedroom. Pale blue paint on the walls with deadly still muggle photographs pasting the walls. The only evidence of Cathy's magical status was her wand on top of the dresser by perfume bottles and books. Cathy shut the door.

"Eris?"

"Yes?"

"I have something else to tell you as well," she continued to smile, "I can't tell his sisters because it's early but-"

"Those were her sisters?"

"Yes, but that's not the point," Cathy's hand touched her stomach, "I'm pregnant."

"With that muggle?"

Cathy sighed and sat on her bed, "Yes, that muggle."

"But he's not even one of those smart muggles that your dad natters on about…"

Cathy's lips curled into a half-smile, "What you mean, like Nietzsche or Tesla? They're all dead muggles. Muggles don't live that long anyway, Eris."

"Then why are you," Eris gulped, "marrying one, then?"

"Because I love him," she replied.

"You don't have to get married if he got you-"

"It was planned, Eris."

"Even before you got married?"

"People do that sort of thing nowadays, don't know how it works in your world but," she chuckled before lying back on her bed.

Eris didn't know how to reply so she just sat beside her friend. "You wrote that you wanted to ask me a favour?"

Cathy jumped up and asked, "Will you be my bridesmaid?"

"I-I-I suppose so, will it be all muggles?"

"Half-and-half," Cathy stroked her cheek, "Well more like you and thirty other wizards."

Eris smiled before asking, "Can you at least put me on a table with some wizards on? I don't even know how electricity works."

* * *

Eris' father had not been suspicious when she had gone missing once more. He was too busy glaring at a draught stewing away in his gold-plated cauldron to notice his daughter's absence. She lay on her bed while leafing through another tome of astronomy in hopes of Rookwood dumping her in the Planet Room. She fell asleep with her book resting on her chest.

Suddenly, she heard angry footsteps and a creak of a door. Her father's face loomed over her, wrinkled and blotchy.

"Here's another bloody letter," he groaned, "I was perfectly busy working hard on a new potion and the bugger flew right into my ingredients drawer." His arms folded and teeth bared.

"Sorry…"

He threw the parchment-enveloped letter in her direction, "Maybe you should come out of that pit of a bedroom of yours and deal with the mail for a change!" He strode out of the room, yet again leaving the door open. His footsteps echoed in the distance as he returned downstairs.

Eris opened the letter, peeling the wax seal from the mottled parchment. Out came a short note scrawled messily by a quill.

 _Dear Ditsy,_

 _I heard of your interest in acquiring membership and I have been instructed by higher powers to meet you. I have been selected to escort you to a third-party residence to discuss finer details with you. I will meet you outside your home at nine o'clock tonight. Do not be late._

 _An old school acquaintance_

Eris had wondered at first if it was a practical joke. It was not the delicate handwriting of Cathy nor the spiky precision of her father's penmanship. Eris knew the wording would have to be vague in case of owl interception and also wondered if it would result in some form of entrapment. She didn't want to wait outside, awaiting one wizard, only to be ambushed by a bandit of aurors. But how well researched would an auror have to be to remember one of her hated nicknames in school was Ditsy? Something only whispered in her latter years whenever she cocked up a potion or spell. There would be no harm in pretending she was innocently outside for a walk at nine o'clock…


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five – Ditsy**

 _7th October 1980_

The grandfather clock in the living room had struck nine while Eris tapped away on the armrest of a navy blue sofa. She leapt towards the door, shutting it quietly behind and stepping down the steps to the pine trees outside of her house. The cold wet winds blew in her face, turning her freckled cheeks red and her hands white. She regretted only wearing a light robe.

She had forgotten the utter darkness surrounding her childhood home, the old street lamp left by the previous muggle residences remained unlit. The sky was overcast hiding the moon and the stars. She held her arms around her as the icy coldness worsened.

"Belby?" she heard a cold voice ask.

She turned, wand in hand to see a familiar face. Severus Snape. While most men abandon greasy hair in adolescence, his clung to his pallid face alongside that look of disdain he had for her since fifth year.

"It's you?"

Severus' brow lowered, "What did you expect, his entire entourage to greet one underling like yourself?"

"It's great to see you back, Severus," she replied dryly.

"Quite," he offered his hand to her, "let's make this quick, even I have more important things to get up to."

Before Eris could retort with, "Like what?" she found herself in another bitterly cold location. A pungent river flowed in front of her with damp moor grass and litter surrounding it. Rows of muggle terraced housing in the distance.

"Where are we?"

"Learn not to ask that," he let go of her hand before pacing ahead of her, "you might get a cruciatus curse flung at you."

Eris continued to tread behind him as her feet sunk in the boggy ground, "You're threatening me now?"

He turned back, "No, but someone else might."

Eris groaned to herself before jogging behind him to catch up as they reached an abandoned muggle street. There was boarded up windows and street lamps with cracked glass. The pavement was decrepit with weed filled cracks and the occasional crisp packet. A sneer formed across her face as they advanced towards one terrace house in particular.

With a gesture of his wand, the boarding surrounding the door dissipated leaving only a green door with chipped paint and scratches on the varnish. She shuffled in, avoiding the dirty doorframe and into a cramped living room.

"Sit," he said tersely as he walked into the adjacent room. She sat down on a threadbare sofa as she heard the clink of glassware from across the kitchen.

She spoke up, "What exactly is this meeting?"

He entered with a face like thunder and two dusty wine glasses slammed into the worn coffee table. He decanted red wine into both of their glasses.

He sat down with his glass, "You should know what this is about."

"But I thought that… he wasn't interested," Eris' hand wrapped around the stem of the glass.

"He's changed his mind," he sipped the wine, "against better judgement."

"Charming," she said before taking a large swig of wine, "as always."

"Now, this is only the first stage into becoming associated with the Dark Lord," he looked at Eris, damp from the drizzle and sitting on the edge of her seat.

"Is there anything precisely I need to do now?"

He rested his back against the chair, "I just need to confirm your interest."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much. Quite a demeaning task for myself as well," he looked into his half-empty glass of wine and swirled the liquid around, "but I guess you're not the most useless recruit he's taken on."

Eris frowned, "You know I'm not useless."

"Tell that to the book in Flourish and Blotts," he smirked.

Eris slumped angrily in her seat, "By Lord! Why does everyone know about that?"

"I wonder if you set any Christmas presents on fire by wrapping them too…"

She sighed, "As much as I can tolerate your… company, I'd rather you'd get to the actual point."

"I did."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did. I have served my purpose."

"Well, am I another step closer to joining his… ranks?"

"I'd have to ask him first. I wouldn't expect confirmation for a while, however-"

"However what, Severus?"

"The Dark Lord is also curious about how much you know. Do you know anyone else in his ranks that the Daily Prophet and your father haven't told you about?"

Eris thought for a second, "I always knew you'd wind up being one. Wilkes, Rosier, Malfoy, those crazy Black sisters…"

"That's all?"

"No, I guess Rookwood, my boss, is probably one."

He placed the wine glass down on the table, "And on what logic do you base that bold accusation?"

"He mentioned having the cruciatus curse done on him at the interview."

"All you know, he could be an auror,"

"Yeah, an Unspeakable that's also a midnighting auror. Highly likely. The only people that get fried like that by magic have displeased the Dark Lord or have-"

"Vital information?"

Eris stopped and her eyes widened.

"Vital information that Rookwood, an Unspeakable, might have."

"And I'm next I suppose?"

Severus let out a quiet guffaw, "You have no information that he wouldn't already know."

"Bet he doesn't know my favourite colour."

"If he really wanted to know that… fascinating tidbit of information, he'd always get it out of you," he picked up his glass before finishing the wine. "Ditsy."

Eris scowled, "I'd rather you'd not call me that."

"Ditsy."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six – Invitations**

 _13th of October 1980_

Eris had been preparing for her first day for work all week. Wondering how to evade Rookwood's roving hands and escape being locked in the love chamber with him again. The thought of his teeth clashing against hers again sent a shudder of revulsion down her spine. Her heart was leaping out of gullet as she paced down the Ministry atrium and made her way towards the Department of Mysteries.

She had arrived outside the love chamber of all horrid places at half past eight. The door remained firmly shut and nobody had passed her by. Silence echoed the walls as Eris tapped her foot against the stone floor. Eventually, Rookwood had limped in with his hand clutching his back as he approached Eris.

He greeted her, "Hello, Miss Belby. Today's your first day. Not very exciting and will consist mainly of paperwork. Nothing more."

"Okay," she replied.

"Follow me to my desk, it's all there."

His desk was a little further down the hallway. Pieces of parchment streaming from half-closed drawers and feather quills resting on the desk top. "As you see," he gestured at the desk, "my workstation requires a bit of organisation. Just simple stuff, separate all the memos by room. The Brain room goes in one and so on. You remember the rooms from the stuff I owled you?"

"Yes, sir," Eris nodded as she sat down at the desk, "anything else?"

"You might have to post some letters later, I'll tell you when. See you later, Miss Belby," he forced a smile before walking away.

The hours passed by and the explosion of parchment and turned into neat piles. Paper cuts formed at the pulp of Eris' fingertips. Her stomach rumbled as lunchtime approached. No sign of Rookwood. She nibbled at her packed lunch as the piles of paperwork grew.

She suddenly heard footsteps, uneven and turned to see Rookwood still limping. He placed an opened letter on his desk. "File this under the love chamber," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," she gave a weak smile.

* * *

 _24th October 1980_

The days rolled into weeks at the Ministry, her days consisting of paperwork and the occasional patronising lecture from Rookwood about astronomy, the power of thoughts or even his mumblings about prophecies. He remained surprisingly chaste in his intentions with Eris during her employment, he only threatened her with his meandering eyes and his words laced with entendre and filth.

He had also invited her as a guest to some sort of dinner party at the Malfoy Manor. 31st of October at seven o'clock sharp, formal attire requested. As much as her dinner guest horrified her, she would be excited to join the world her father only ranted enviously about at the breakfast table or over empty bottles of mead. Her father was frothing in the mouth in delight when she mentioned the invite.

Whilst at work, she received another anonymous letter presumably from Severus to meet him outside her house. Supposedly, a decision had been made and he was due to meet her again at ten o'clock that night. She looked at the clock in her room, it was quarter to ten. She resisted the fatigue of a long day at work while she lay in her bed. Her hands clutching onto another book about the Dark Arts, its leather-bound cover worn and mothbitten. Her eyes blurred and threatened to close as she read the same chapter again.

She looked again and the clock declared it to be five minutes past ten. She gasped in panic and leapt out of her bed, hastily lacing up her boots before dashing down the stairs. She slammed the door behind her to find a scowling Severus only metres away from her. His arms firmly folded.

"What took you so long?" he spat.

"I-I… fell asleep," she looked down and grabbed his hand. "Let's make this quick."

He obeyed and again after apparating was back by a dank brown river on a soggy riverbed. They stumbled through the mud up the hill to the same row of abandoned terraced houses. Their red brick walls mossy and chipped.

She made herself comfortable on the threadbare sofa without invitation. He sneered as he sat back down on a battered leather armchair, both his hands stroking the arm rests.

"You brought me here…" Eris prompted.

"Ah, yes, the Dark Lord requires your services," he said.

"What, now?"

"Not now. But he wants your allegiance. He approves."

"Of me?"

"So far, yes. Don't mess it up, Belby."

"When will I meet him? When will stuff start happening?"

"Patience. You need to give it time," he replied.

She scanned the room, each wall filled with shelves of books, cobwebs forming at untouched spines but not a single bottle of alcohol to be seen. "Do you have anything to drink?"

"You have work tomorrow."

Before Eris scolded him for his parenting of her, she realised, "How do you know I'm working tomorrow?"

"I know you work Saturdays. I have been informed."

"By who? I mean, how is my schedule important?"

"I personally agree with your lack of importance, but we like to scout out applicants a bit before considering them."

Eris looked shocked, "Like what? Spy on us? I mean what are you going to find on me anyway, apart from my abyss of a social life and my days of paperwork?"

"Feel sorry for the poor man that has to do your background check," his hand gripped the armrest tighter, "must be a most thankless and tedious task."

"Poor bastard," Eris relaxed into her seat, "moving on, have you been getting up to much?"

His eyes narrowed, "And pray why does that hold any importance to you, Belby?"

Eris grimaced, "There is this thing called small talk. It is how humans pretend to be interested in each other."

"Pretend? Am I not entertaining enough for you?"

"Without alcohol, you're not."

* * *

 _31st October 1980_

Another event that would require alcohol would be the dinner party at the Malfoys on the 31st. The next week came through thick and fast, and now at seven o'clock, she was greeted by a grinning Rookwood at her front door. His freshly-ironed velvet robes shimmering under wandlight. He offered her his arm, and she reluctantly hooked her arm into his before he grabbed in his wand to apparate.

They arrived outside a towering cast iron gate, the entrance of what she assumed to be a vast estate. Looming hedges circled around a manor house in the distance, the windows emitting a golden glow. After a tap of his wand, the gate opened slightly and their feet crunched against the gravelled driveway. The manor house came closer in their sights, beautiful Georgian architecture and crisp sandstone brick.

Rookwood continued to pull Eris further ahead as she gawped at the grounds. She paused for a moment admiring the large fountain. He pushed open the thick oak doors before entering the hallway. Its stone floor covered in silk rugs and pale-faced portraits watching the new visitors.

He looked at the disdainful portraits, "Not a single Malfoy has heard of blooming sun, have they?"

Eris let out a weak chuckle before unhooking herself from Rookwood's grasp. They heard footsteps draw closer. It was Narcissa Malfoy. A willowy blonde, who stood an inch higher than Eris.

"Augustus, I've seen you brought company," Narcissa's blue eyes narrowed at Eris.

"Yes, I have, this is Eris Belby, girl that's working under me," he gestured towards a nervous-looking Eris.

"Oh, yes," her haughty expression deepened, "I remember your father." She turned around, "Please, come, the drawing room is a little bit empty as you'd expect. I'm surprised by your punctuality, Augustus."

He smiled as he tried to grab Eris' hand again, "Well, I had to escort a lady with me."

The blonde witch's nose scrunched up, "Quite."

The drawing room was as magnificently intimidating as the hallway, high-ceilings, multi-tiered chandeliers and a banquet length mahogany table in the centre of the room. The fireplace roared with a glowing emerald flame. Lucius Malfoy sat alone, avoiding the gaze of a scampering house-elf pouring him more wine

The house-elf handed Eris an empty crystal glass and poured her a wine of elderberry. She downed her drink while listening the inane drawling of Lucius retorting to the brash words of a pock-marked Augustus Rookwood. Snippets included Ministry dealings and bribery, dealing with muggles and even shuffling glances between themselves upon mentioning the Dark Lord. Her ideas of intercepting their conversation crumbled as they flitted from one irrelevant topic to another.

More guests poured in over time. Narcissa's sister, Bellatrix Lestrange sauntered into the drawing room. She gave the stiffly-sat Eris one look before turning to Rookwood and declaring, "Prowling for half-bloods now, are we?" She smirked.

"Calm down, Bellatrix. She's just a colleague," he said while leaning back into his chair.

"From what I heard," her hand rested on her hip, "not just at the Ministry soon too."

Rookwood shot a glance at Eris while she evaded eye contact.

Bellatrix's face broke out into a wild grin, "Do you think you have what it takes?"

Eris looked up at her, "Pardon?"

The dark haired witch stepped closer, "Do you think you can do anything to help the Dark Lord?"

"I'm an educated witch of wizarding birth," Eris sipped her wine, "I'm capable of enough."

"Do you think that's a satisfactory answer, half blood?" she hissed.

"Well, he thinks so, Bellatrix," Eris' lips twisted into a half-smile.

"Now, now, Bellatrix," Lucius drawled, "the poor girl is only just starting her journey into a more righteous path, you needn't scare off future followers."

"But she… her father… her grandmother liked fucking muggles!"

Eris choked on her wine, "What?"

Bellatrix sat next to Eris, leaning towards her and cooed, "Haven't you heard, darling? Daddy's daddy was a muggle gardener."

Eris' hand gripped her glass, "Haven't you heard, Bellatrix? Your sister married a muggle."

"I'm still of pureblood, unlike you," she sneered.

Eris tutted, "And your cousins, Regulus and… Sirius? Not known for their support of your Lord."

Bellatrix's face reddened, biting her lips, "Watch your tongue!"

Lucius' quiet chuckle intercepted their dispute, "I think we might have our starters soon. Please for the love of Merlin, sit away from each other. As much as I enjoyed your last dinner party duel, Bellatrix… I think little Eris might be bit more adept than Carrow."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven – Binding**

Eris stared at the crisp moonlight cut through her velvet curtains into the darkness of her bedroom. As much as she tried to slumber, she kept analysing every sentence uttered at that dinner party. Each faux pas she made, each one she might have committed without her knowledge and how that would ruin her chances of joining their ranks. Her body was mangled under her covers and her temples throbbed. Her make-up smeared against the bed linen. She groaned and buried her head under her pillow. The house was silent, she could only hear her breath and the autumn winds slamming tree branches against her window.

Then, she heard a creak. Creeping footsteps. She twisted around. Right in her face was a cackling man dressed in black robes and wearing an ivory skull mask. She shrieked, his gloved hand smothered her mouth. More joined him. Incantations were muttered and magical ropes formed around her wrists and ankles. Another spell hit her throat, her screams muffled. Her eyes firmly on her wand laying on the bedside table. Until everything turned to darkness. Her cheeks were being scratched by a rough linen material. The bloody bastards have put my head into a bag, she thought.

She had to rely on her other senses as her sight and hearing were impaired. She felt her body float down the stairs and out of the door and then twisted and contorted by the familiar sensation of apparition.

She knew that she must have left her house but she had no idea where she was. She smelt the outdoors, wet grass and decaying leaves and the coldness of a British autumn. She managed to make out muffled conversation between male voices. She still floated in the air as if she was immune to gravity. Suddenly, she stopped and fell to the ground. She felt the arms of several men lift her up and plonk her down onto a wooden floor.

Her hands and feet were freed and her eyes saw dirty crackled floorboards and the black polished shoes of Death Eaters. She made a squeak before croaking, "Where am I?"

One tall Death Eater turned to her and groaned, "What did I tell you about asking that, Belby?"

Another Death Eater moved closer to her before removing his mask, she saw the hazel eyes of August Rookwood staring at her. "Now, girl, the Dark Lord is willing to meet you." He grabbed her hand, "Just be prepared to see him. He doesn't have your looks girl."

"Then again, neither do you Rookwood," another male Death Eater uttered.

"Oh shut it, Rosier," Rookwood squinted his eyes, "Oh shit, sorry for that."

"Like I'm surprised that Rosier is one," Eris smiled.

Eris looked around the hallway they resided. The abandoned house was cold and damp, its floorboards sticky and cracked. The brick walls were caked in dust and spiderwebs. It was only lit by candles, emitting a pale blue glow. She continued down the hallway, hearing the floorboards ripple under her feet. The Dark Lord was not much on presentation, she thought. She was beckoned by Rookwood into a large doorway, once grand now haggard from neglect and decay. The doors flew open and she shuffled into the dining hall.

It showed the same signs of age as the rest of the building, but had probably had seen some cleaning charms in the past few years. The centrepiece of the room was a banquet length mahogany table with ornate chairs to match while the fireplace remained flameless and the chandeliers only burnt dimly.

Her eyes locked upon him, the Dark Lord. His skin a deathly white, his face taut with only nostrils and scarlet red eyes identifying him as human. He remained sat down, his unnaturally long fingers tapping at the table. Eris suppressed her shudder of repulsion as she stepped further into the room.

"Welcome, Eris." His frosty cold voice reverberated through the room.

Eris gave a weak smile, bowed and replied, "Thank you for having my audience, milord."

His thin lips twisted into a half smile, "I know you have been aiming to have it for some time."

She blinked in silence, not daring to utter a word.

He continued, "Rookwood has informed me of your recent employment as his apprentice at the Ministry of Magic," he paused, "is that right, Eris?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded.

"Your position in the Department of Mysteries is one of… great importance. Especially for me," his hands stopped tapping at the mahogany table. "Sit, Eris, sit." Eris obeyed and sat half a dozen chairs away from him. His hand now curled around the arm of his chair, his finger stroking the carved surface. "Now before we discuss tactics, I need to ask a few things of you."

Eris just looked up into his hollow eyes before he continued, "Recruitment into my ranks is no easy feat. You're young, inexperienced and your allegiances have not yet been proven." He adjusted himself in the seat, "In order to succeed in your endeavour of following me, I will need to set you some tasks."

"Can you tell me what these are, milord?"

His lips smiled, "Some I am happy to divulge immediately, others deal with sensitive and confidential information I am not yet willing to share with you."

"Are there any of these… tasks... that you can tell me about today?"

"Why, yes, Eris. As you might be aware, the Ministry is filled with my followers. You spotted Rookwood of your own accord, for which I am most surprised. Aurors haven't smelt his scent yet in the Department of Mysteries. But he's usually such a good charming boy in public."

Eris nodded and listened as he continued, "I need another informant in your department."

"Me?" Eris squeaked.

"Yes. Any details of our opposition infiltrating the Ministry or even committing minor annoyances like stealing time turners… let us know."

"Yes, I will."

"This is a relatively safe task. I haven't seen you fight yet and I don't picture you to enjoy capturing wizards and muggles that much. You haven't got your hands dirty yet." Eris bit her lip and looked down at the grooves in the wooden table as he continued, "You'll need to strengthen your duelling and Dark Arts knowledge before I let you loose on the field. Since you are a typical Ravenclaw, I implore you to find any text you can on the subject. You might actually learn a thing or two."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight – The Hall of Prophecy**

The only thing that Eris could deduce was that Augustus Rookwood frequently paced around the Hall of Prophecy and expected her to join him. Their paces reverberating through the stone-walled room with shelf after shelf of dimly lit orbs, each holding their own prophecy. The only rule he hissed to her under his breath was to never touch the orbs unless she suddenly became the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy or a subject matter of a seer's prediction. He described the utter insanity previous apprentices subjected themselves to from curiosity and each touching required a long-term hospitalisation at St. Mungo's.

They strolled from the first row and always paused at the same row each day, row ninenty-seven. Some of the prophecies on this shelf remained lightless and dull while some glowed brightly with smoke swirling inside the dusty glass. His eyes fixed on one prophecy, still dustless and newly placed on the shelf. Its yellow label still fresh and not aged. Rookwood let out another grumble before returning to his desk with Eris trailing behind him.

He turned around and muttered through his teeth, "Always keep an eye on anyone prowling row ninety-seven. Any folk that are particularly interested in it, get security to keep 'em out."

"Is that-"

"Don't ask many questions, girl, but that prophecy is important to him," he halted as he winced. His right hand gripping onto his left forearm. He growled, "Cover for me, tell Brindle I'm doing an errand. I won't be back until tomorrow," he loosened his grip of his forearm, "judging by how much this bastard stings." He scurried off down the hallway, leaving Eris alone.

Upon realising that there was nothing to do for the next five hours apart from gawp at row ninety-seven in the Hall of Prophecy, Eris made an early return home. She crashed out on her sofa with her hair falling out of its pins, her gingery frizz flowing. Her boots kicked off onto the wooden floor.

She heard her father clear his throat, "You've been sacked already then, Eris?"

She jolted around, "No! It was j-just an early day today, daddy!"

He raised an eyebrow before shuffling onto his armchair, "Rookwood has taken a liking to you."

Eris sighed and returned a scowl to her father, "And what are you suggesting this time?"

"Nothing, he's far too old-"

"At least we can agree on that," Eris interrupted.

"Shame he was though, he's just about dirty-blooded enough to tolerate marrying you," he replied.

"Seriously, father?" Eris groaned, "I'm not marrying anyone anytime soon."

"Then… what are you doing?"

"I'm doing everything bloody else you want! I've got good marks at school, I'm an Unspeakable and I'm even," her voice lowered, "working for the Dark Lord… and you're nagging me about husbands!"

"But you're twenty now. Old enough to be a wizard's wife."

"And also a muggle's wife," a dark smirk spread across Eris' face.

Damocles grabbed his wand and thrust it into Eris' face, "If you ever threaten that again, I'll curse you until you're a cremated corpse!" The colour drained from her face, leaving only the freckles on her white cheeks. He continued to hiss in her face, "Anymore backchat from you, child, and I might find it suitable to punish you." Eris nodded in silence before edging further away from the wand pointed into her cheek. Its threatening sparks heating up her skin.

There was a tapping on the door. Damocles dropped his wand back into his pocket before slowly rising from his armchair and hobbling towards the door. Eris closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"It's your boss, Eris, Mr Rookwood," Damocles bellowed from the front door, "he needs you immediately."

Eris grabbed her boots and fastening them up with her sweaty fingers. Her pulse still racing from the altercation with her father, she saw Rookwood stood in the hallway wearing dark black robes and clutching onto a familiar ivory skull mask.

"He wants you there too, Eris," Rookwood said with a worried look on his face, "he needs confirmation." He avoided Damocles' eager gaze.

"Yes, sir," Eris replied and offered him a weak smile and her hand as she stepped outside with him.

They apparated to a wet field as the sun just sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky a blue-grey. The smell of decay ruminating the air as a Victorian manor was a stone's throw away. The chipped black gate already open and creaking in the November winds.

Eris grabbed her wand and muttered, "Lumos!" She paced alongside Rookwood with her wand searching the uneven grass beneath her feet on her way to the house in front of her. Rookwood brandished his wand, flinging the red door open to reveal the same dank floorboards Eris had fallen face first into the last time she had met the Dark Lord. Eris closed the door behind her before keeping several paces behind Rookwood as they turned from the hall into another room.

The room felt piercingly cold even though the fireplace contained a roaring fire. The smell of damp now invading Eris' nostrils. Two red eyes flashed before, revealing the Dark Lord sat on a chair by the fireplace with his wand resting on his cheek.

His cold voice echoed through the room, "Rookwood, I am glad you brought company this time."

Eris tried her best to look into the Dark Lord's eyes but struggled to do much more than stare in between his hairless eyebrows. The Dark Lord continued to speak, "Belby, please inform me about what you've seen during your employment."

"What in particular, my lord?"

He bared his teeth in an awkward smile, "The Hall of Prophecy is holding something in particular I need. Row ninety seven, newly placed. Rookwood claims no-one but the Keeper and the prophecy subjects can pick it up from the shelf. Is that right?"

"Yes," Eris said quietly, looking at the floorboards.

"Look at me when I address you, Belby," the Dark Lord spat. He cleared his throat, "Now tell me, can you pick up the prophecy from the shelf?"

She obeyed and looked at his scarlet eyes that scorched into her own. Icy fear poured down her spine. "No," she replied.

The white-skinned man snarled, gripping the wand tighter into his hand, "Don't lie, Belby, is it physically possible to pick up a prophecy from the shelf?"

She gulped, his eyes not blinking as he continued to stare at her, "Physically possible is different from maiming any witch or wizard that attempts it."

His slit-like eyes narrowed, "What happens if you attempt it? Well according to Rookwood…"

"You get driven into madness because of some sort of curse. You can't even really manage to hold onto it for more than a few seconds until you drop it and convulse on the floor," the words poured clumsily out of her mouth, "that's what Rookwood has seen other apprentices do."

The Dark Lord nodded and loosened the grip on his wand, "Yes, so is anyone able to pick up said prophecy?"

"The keeper person, that's it-"

"Also, the subjects of the prophecy can take it, milord," interjected Rookwood.

"Quiet Rookwood, I am speaking to Belby," his eyes scanned back to her, "do you know this keeper person?"

"I've only seen Brindle once, at work, he's been ill for the past week," she replied as her temples began to ache.

"Would Brindle take the prophecy if told so?" he hissed.

"I don't know, sir."

"Would he take it… if forced?"

Rookwood bit his lip and blurted out, "I told you, Dark Lord, there is no way to circumnavigate the ancient magic protecting the prophecies. I tried cursing that Brindle last week to get it for you, and he's been off work ever since. He's a resistant little bugger."

"I told you not to try the Imperius curse without my permission, Rookwood."

Rookwood shuddered, "I know, Lord, but… but he had not been convinced otherwise."

The Dark Lord sardonically tutted as he twirled his wand in his hand, "Rookwood, do you have any other suggestions in how to obtain this prophecy?"

"The person mentioned in the prophecy could-"

The Dark Lord's eyes widened, "The person does not have the inconspicuousness to enter the Ministry without much complaint. The other person is… indisposed to pick up it."

"Why don't you just disguise yourself when you go get it, milord? I've suggested it before-"

Suddenly, a jolt of electric-like sparks flew in Rookwood's direction and he crumbled to the ground. "I told you, I am unable to collect it myself. You've also informed your little minion," his eyes turned back to the sheet-white Eris, "by accident about its content. I really wished you haven't done that, Rookwood."

Rookwood pulled himself from the dusty ground and brandished his wand at Eris. "Obliviate!" he exclaimed. Eris' grey eyes blinked back at him in confusion.

"Don't come to the conclusion that you're forgiven, Rookwood. I'll punish you later, after you take the girl back."

Rookwood pulled at Eris' arm angrily as he began to drag her out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine – The Wedding**

Finally in the depths of November, her best friend at Hogwarts was due to wed her muggle sweetheart, a plumber from down the road in a church. That combination of words horrified Eris more than she cared to admit. The once feisty and bright Cathy Morrell was succumbing to the calloused fingered charm of Wayne Mason.

Eris was draped in a taffeta and tulle nightmare, a garish muggle fabric itching every inch of her body and in a most unflattering shade of blush pink. Her friend was ignorant of the fact as she grinned cheek to cheek in her ivory wedding gown, some sort of meringue with the head of Cathy sticking out of the top. The ceremony was very confusing for Eris, involving declarations to God and Jesus with breaks for hymns.

Also, Cathy had blatantly lied about the number of wizarding folk attending her wedding. She sat on the wizarding table with six other guests not deviating from the tortuous topic of Quidditch. Her friend grinning with her groom and family at the top table behind a mountainous bouquet of pink roses and ivy. Not even realising that her friend Eris was glowering at her in anger and fantasying about hitting most of the wedding guests with a beater's bat.

Mary MacDonald was hiding her straw-like hair in an oversized hat. She prodded at Eris' shoulder, "You're Eris, right?"

"Yes?"

Mary suppressed a chuckle, "I heard about you at Hogwarts."

Eris growled, "What did you hear?"

Mary bit her lip, "Nothing, oh, ab-so-lutely nothing."

"If you don't tell me McDonald, I'll hex you worse than Mulciber did."

Mary's shoulders tensed and her brown eyes winced, "I'm sorry,"

Eris turned around and stared into Mary's eyes, "Tell me now, McDonald… what did you hear about me at Hogwarts?"

Mary nervously sipped at her white wine, "I-I…. It's a nasty rumour but-"

"Spit it out," Eris hissed.

"I heard you slept with a bunch of Slytherin boys."

Eris sighed and rolled her eyes, "So what?"

Mary coughed up some of her wine, "What?"

"I mean, we're all young once…"

"But, Eris, they're the bad ones," Mary placed down her wine glass, "you know in the war that's going on."

"That's like saying that all Hufflepuffs are stupid," Eris folded her arms, "I'm sure a lot of them are, but there's probably one Hufflepuff somewhere with outstandings on their exams."

Another wedding guest at the table turned, a middle-aged wizard in a baggy grey suit, "What did you say about Hufflepuff?"

"Nothing," Eris groaned as she poured herself more red wine.

The next few hours involved more Quidditch debate, Ministry politics and impolite quizzing about her job as an Unspeakable. Separated by courses of muggle food and acidic red wine to wash down overcooked chicken breast and Mary MacDonald's baby voice. Every time Eris looked at the bride, she was off talking to yet another muggle and completely ignorant of her existence. After several muggles asked her to dance, Eris locked herself in the ladies' toilets and apparated back home by her doorstep.

She slammed the door behind her and kicked out the pinchy heels to the wooden floor and sat down on a blue chaise longue. The pink taffeta dress pooled around her hips as she slumped down. Her silver clutch bag lay beside her.

"What on earth are you wearing?" she heard a booming voice and turned to find her red-faced father. "Why are you dressed in those vile clothes?"

"I-I…"

"You've been hanging out with muggles, haven't you girl? Just when I finally thought you'd come to your senses…" he sneered as he paced around her.

"I went to my friend's wedding, she was a friend at Hogwarts," Eris gulped.

Damocles grabbed at the hem at taffeta dress and shuddered as his fingers stroked the fabric. "Was it that blasted half-blood Cathy?"

Eris looked into her father's maroon eyes in silence, not daring to answer yes.

"I thought you were making such progress," Damocles stood still with his fists clenched, "a new job and better connections. Charming wizards like Rookwood and not revelling in the company of muggle lovers." He clenched his yellow teeth as he continued to hiss, "I thought that you had stopped embarrassing me. I thought that you could redeem the Belby name. But no, of course not. You're a disappointment as always."

"I can't do anything right, can I?"

"No, you can't."

"I'm doing everything you ask of me. I'm working in the Ministry, I'm not hanging out with any unsavoury characters that you disapprove of regularly and I'm even siding with you-know-who!"

"That's the least you can do," Damocles snarled, "If you wanted to please me, you'd be less of an embarrassment as a daughter."

Eris jumped out of her seat and stepped towards her short father, "I got good grades! I did everything I could! What more do you want, father?" She frowned as she stood an inch taller than her father with her hot breath blowing in his furious face.

Damocles yanked at his daughter's exposed shoulder and pulled her towards him, "Don't you dare raise your voice at me, brat!"

Eris pushed her father off her and he ungainly fell onto the polished wood floor. He yowled in pain. She kneeled to help him, only for him to hiss in return, "Get off, you bitch." Eris' hand edged away from him and he continued, "Come back when you're fit to be my daughter again."

* * *

Eris placed her final item of clothing into her leather suitcase on her bed. Four lots of wizarding robes surrounded by bottles of wine, books and miscellaneous items. She decided that it would be best not to enchant her bedroom door shut but to evacuate for a few days to the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade. The familiar chorus of her father stomping around the house while angrily ranting about his disappointing daughter was something she could evade at least for a few days. Especially now she had a decent salary to abscond with.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten – Unsavoury Characters**

The accommodation at Hog's Head Inn was far from glamorous and the fireplace had been coughing out coal dust onto her suitcase ever since she came into her room. The dirty stone floors matched with the old bedding, bobbling from overuse but luckily stainless after Eris charmed as many bodily fluids and food stains off it as she could. But it far surpassed her home in one regard, she felt safe. She had spent the last few weeks alone and only leaving her room to attend work or eat. The occasional angry letter was owled to her at work but her father's penmanship only uttered hollow threats.

Now, she sat alone at an aged wooden table downstairs in the bar. Her face was lit only by the stubby candle under her face as she sipped at a gillywater. The dank bay windows hid the view of a dark starry December night. Its coldness had sept into the pub as the fire was only embers. Eris felt the hair on her forearms rise in the cold under her sleeves. She listened to the quiet murmurs of regular customers, all cloaked and unfamiliar faces to Eris.

The thick oak door flung open as a group of men disrupted the sombre tone of the room. Evan Rosier, his ivory white skin and auburn hair. Lucius Malfoy, his flaxen hair tied back. Severus Snape, as pallid and miserable as always. They walked past her to the bar without as much as a single acknowledgement.

"I require some drinks in as a way of celebration," Lucius drawled at the barman.

"I'm afraid you'll have to pay, sir," said Aberforth as he continued to polish a glass by hand.

Rosier leant into the bar, "I'll buy us a bottle of firewhiskey then, Lucius. And give us three glasses, would ya Aberforth?"

Lucius turned around and had finally realised that Eris had been overlooking this entire scene. He raised an eyebrow, "Well, Belby, care to join us?"

Eris nodded and clumsily left her seat before following them to their own larger table.

Lucius began to pour his two companions a generous portion of firewhiskey. "Since the Dark Lord has dealt with that little problem at the Ministry, we're free to celebrate."

Eris looked at Lucius in confusion and he continued, "The Dark Lord has won, Belby."

Eris whispered, "Are you sure?"

"There's no need to whisper about it now, Eris," Rosier smirked.

"He's infiltrated the Ministry," Severus added.

"I thought he did that already."

"Well he finally went ahead and did it, he's got in a new Minister. All the more supportive of his choices," Rosier explained.

"So, does it mean that he's definitely won?"

"After Rookwood convinced him to stop worrying about that stupid prophecy, he moved on to more important things," Lucius said as he began to sip his drink.

"The prophecy on row ninety-seven?" Eris whispered.

Rosier smiled, "Rookwood just told the Dark Lord to go ahead and do it. Can't believe that bastard was scared off a newborn baby even if it's the son of aurors."

"Then again, it's just those blood traitor Longbottoms, I wouldn't give them much credit," Lucius smirked.

Eris looked at Severus, he had finished his second serving of firewhiskey already. She looked at her empty glass, "Hey, Evan, can I have some of your firewhiskey?"

"On a first name basis now, Eris? I thought after sixth year, you'd never speak to me again."

"Well that would a suitable punishment for disappointing sex," Eris smirked as she poured herself some firewhiskey. Lucius let out a cold chuckle while Severus scowled at her in disapproval.

"Is he always this prudish?" Eris asked, gesturing her glass towards Severus.

"Pretty much. Doesn't even want a night with a Knockturn Alley bird. Probably not got enough galleons for one though, have you, Snape?" Rosier guffawed.

"Why pay when Belby will do it for free?" Severus dryly noted.

Eris tightly gripped her glass of firewhiskey and shot him a look laced with venom, "I'd have to charge in your case though." He seemed unfazed by her anger and continued to stare at her while finishing off his third glass of firewhiskey.

"Now, now, children," Lucius mockingly cooed, "it's time for celebration. Our time has come to rejoice under the light of a new regime. A time to claim our superiority as wizarding kind. A time to vanquish over any obstacles in our path to-"

"What are you, Malfoy? A fucking politician?" Rosier laughed into his glass.

"Hopefully one day," Lucius replied.

"And will daddy bribe your way into power again?" Rosier snickered.

"Don't talk about my father," Lucius hissed as he leant closer to Rosier.

"So what the old man's dead," Rosier dismissed, "I just don't want you being the Minister of Magic because you're some rich aristocratic bastard. Wizarding kind's had enough of those in power."

"Just because you're jealous of my wealth and prestige, Rosier…" Malfoy drawled.

"No, I'm not. The Dark Lord came from nothing, he might be a descendant of Slytherin but Malfoy he ain't. He worked hard to get where he is today. Don't you agree Severus?"

Severus replied, "He's not exactly a typical politician, is he Rosier? I don't picture him being the figurehead of the new regime. Even I find his appearance unpalatable."

"If you need to be a pretty boy to be in power, then Malfoy could do a good job," Rosier gesticulated towards the haughty looking wizard.

"There's nothing wrong with looks, Rosier. Just because you resemble a constipated clabberbert…"

Eris coughed up some of the firewhiskey back into her glass, her throat burned from the spirit running down into her airways. She spluttered into the table in front of her and saw both Lucius and Severus smirking at her.

"I heard you have left your childhood home, Belby," Severus drawled.

"Temporarily," Eris replied as she started to regain her breath.

"Always thought you and daddy were tightly-knit," Rosier teased, "he's not very pleased about it according to Rookwood."

"Damocles keeps sending Rookwood howlers, he's most displeased," Lucius added.

Eris gave them all a bemused look, "I thought he was only sending me angry letters every so often."

"No, I think your father is convinced you have absconded with Rookwood," suggested Severus.

"Don't give me ideas," Eris gulped down more alcohol before continuing, "I might run out of galleons eventually."

A cloaked figure caught the corner of Eris' eye. A thin tall male frame walked towards the bar, she saw a sparkling wand leave his burgundy sleeve and then… BANG! Her vision was obscured by a piercingly bright light and she collapsed onto the filthy stone floor. She looked up and a swarm of cloaked wizards had entered the room and the barman had disappeared. Rosier dragged her from the ground and threw her behind the bar. Her head banged against an overhanging shelf. She felt her skull crack and warm blood pour down her forehead and into her eyelashes.

In between the limbo of consciousness and blackness, she heard rapid wandfire and pained yelps. She stumbled from the ground as green smoke filled the room, her blood pouring onto the ground. Her hand gripped her wand as she wiped the blood from her face with her sleeve.

"Belby!" she heard a male voice cry but unfamiliar to her. She couldn't find him among the putrid smoke, "What are you doing with bloody Death Eaters?" She didn't reply. She followed the voice as her eyes winced shut from the agonising gas in the air.

Between blinks, she saw a black haired wizard, the older brother of Regulus Black. Sirius paced towards her and she kept her wand up in the air. He yelled again, "What are you doing, Belby?"

Eris' blood continued to drip down her face and she lifted her wand higher. Still silent.

Sirius shrieked, "ANSWER ME, BELBY!"

Another wizard ran behind Sirius Black. Tall with messy dark hair. His glasses steamed up from the noxious gas in the air. "She's just had a confundus charm done on her. Poor Ravenclaw. Stuck in a pub filled with snakes." James patted his friend on the shoulder, "Patch poor Belby up. She wasn't really known for her booksmarts anyway."

Sirius laughed and agreed, "Heard she was a total slapper."

Eris' eyes narrowed and she hissed, "Stupefy!" James had collapsed onto the ground. Within a blink on her eye, she turned to Sirius and growled, "Everberus." A mistral fist flew out of the tip of Eris' wand struck one of Sirius' cheeks. He look aghast at his knocked out friend and his red cheek. Unaware that Eris had whispered, "Anakatus." His eyes lost their mischievous glint and he fell down next to his unconscious friend.

Eris' waved the poisonous air away from her as she reached for the door. Her eyes still shut, she felt the piercingly cold but refreshing air outside. Her lungs were burning inside her chest. She ran from the cobbled streets into the bushes behind the pub where she found a crouched down Severus.

She looked around for any more of the cloaked attackers but no one was in sight. She knelt down beside Severus. His face appeared uninjured but a shred of panic had cracked through his icy persona.

"What are you still doing here?" wheezed Eris as her grip loosened around her wand.

Severus snapped, "Damn Potter casted an anti-apparation spell on me."

"Don't worry. Knocked him out with a second year spell. Poor boy."

"Not for long though."

"I'll distract them while you head off. They don't know I'm one of you," Eris pounced from the ground and made her way back towards the Hog's Head Inn.

A hand clawed the front door open and a pale-looking Cathy emerged. Her eyes bulged upon setting sight upon her old friend, Eris.

She limped towards her friend and croaked, "Eris!"

"Cathy, what are you-"

"I'm d-doing my best, Eris," Cathy coughed and paused to catch her breath.

"Why are you here?"

"I was helping out a raid with the order," Cathy stood up straight and looked deeply into her friend's eyes, "why are you here?"

"I-I was staying here since I fell out with my dad… but then t-this…"

Cathy offered her friend a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry, Eris. Sorry you got caught in something you're not involved in."

"Well, I wasn't planning to be a part of an order raid but-"

"Not that, Eris!" Cathy hissed, "I mean you're not one of them. Those Death Eater bastards."

"No, Cathy. I'm not."

"Good," she smiled and stepped aside before apparating. Her body vanishing in front of Eris' eyes.

* * *

The galleons did not run out before Eris decided to return home. The Hog's Head Inn had become progressively louder in the past few days as various wizards seemed to be getting merry on alcohol night after night. Whispers of changings brewing in the ministry turned into murmurs and eventually into late-night duels resulting in misfired shots shattering windows downstairs.

With her suitcase in hand, Eris apparated back outside her home in the dark December morning. Frosty grass crunched under her feet as she walked towards her doorstep. She quietly opened and closed the front door behind her.

Her bald father strode towards her with open arms, "I'm so pleased to see you, Eris," and his arms squeezed around her lithe frame. She let out a single audible squeak as her father squeezed out any breath left in her lungs. "I'd knew you'd never leave me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven – The Riddle House**

 _8th December 1980_

Rookwood had abruptly grabbed her arm and dragged her from the desk. She fumbled out of her chair as he continued to pull her towards the exit of their department. Eventually, Eris squirmed from his grasp and stood still in protest. Her arms folded and brow furrowed.

She asked shrilly, "Where are you taking me?"

Rookwood sighed, "Where do you think, girl? To see the Dark Lord!" He gestured to his left forearm as he rushed down a flight of stairs towards the Ministry atrium.

They returned to the familiar darkly-tiled atrium. Rows of empty fireplaces lay ahead of them. Eris shot her colleague a look of confusion.

"You're going to the Riddle House," he gruffly instructed as he handed her a pot of floo powder.

She obeyed and threw the glittery powder towards the floor of a fireplace before proclaiming, "Riddle House." Her eyes suddenly occluded by pitch black, her skin feeling squashed from a thousand new angles and her ears whistling in the wind of the floo network. All before she landed feet first into a new fireplace.

Or at least she thought it was new. The dank dining hall ahead of her had been her meeting point with the Dark Lord several times in the past, only now more decorations were strewn around the room. The dust had been charmed from the chandeliers and the wooden floor had been recently polished. Emerald green tapestries with an ancient rune symbol she recognised as 'othala' were hanging from the ceiling.

"Admiring the décor, are we?" a cold voice echoed in the room. Her eyes jolted towards the alabaster-skinned man in front of her, his nostrils flaring.

She gave a weak smile as she crouched out from the fireplace. She bowed in his direction. As instructed by Rookwood and her father. "Why Othala?"

"Ahh, I take it you studied ancient runes at Hogwarts then," he gave a smile and looked back to the rippling tapestries above his bald head, "othala as many meanings but it is most known as heritage or nobility. Wizarding kind have far too long have abandoned their role as nobility."

"I agree, milord…"

"Yes," he gestured Eris to the table, "sit." She obeyed without hesitation and sat at the dining table. Her hands clasped together and her elbows resting on the edge. He joined her at the chair at the head of the table, its ornate arms dwarfed by his spidery fingers.

He cleared his throat, "You have neglected to congratulate me, Belby."

Her eyes bulged in her sockets, her throat dry and she was uneven to utter a defence.

His red eyes glinted in delight, "I wouldn't worry too much anymore. You are only young. And your father wasn't one for formalities or respect himself."

"I am sorry for his misbehaviour in the past," she mumbled staring at her sweaty palms.

"I doubt you will be force feeding Greyback Wolfsbane potion mid-meeting, child."

"Wouldn't even be able to make it, milord."

"Modesty is for Hufflepuffs, Belby. I heard that you have some skill."

"In what? Whatever Rosier has been saying-"

He gestured the flat of his white palm towards Eris, "I heard you defeated two order wizards in that poorly-executed raid at the Hog's Head Inn."

"I didn't do a great job, I…" she felt her temples throb as he continued to glower at her.

"You sent two wizards to St Mungo's. More impressively, they were unable to name you as an assailant."

"I just used a memory charm, that's all."

"A false memory charm takes more talent than a simple obliviate. The fact that you convinced them that they attacked each other in friendly fire…."

Eris' pride cracked her trembling demeanour. A smirk formed on her thin lips.

"I did not summon you for idle chatter, Miss Belby," he placed his long yew wand onto the polished table, "I have some sort of agenda on my mind."

"Yes?" her eyes peering at him in earnest.

"Your magical skills surprise me. Hearsay of your ineptitude is quite false. However, as mentioned earlier, proving your loyalty is what separates you from your future colleagues."

"Colleagues?"

"My men," his fingers pinched his wand, "all have to prove their loyalty before they can ascend into my higher ranks."

"I am aware, milord."

"You still remain underground as one of my followers. Not a single member of my resistance suspect you. Not that matters since I'm in charge of the Ministry now," he let out a single laugh before returning his hands to the arms of his chair.

"So am I allowed to assume that Barty Crouch Sr. is not there of his own volition?"

"The only will he needed was his son's imperius curse."

Eris bit her lip, the thought bubbling in her brain was not acceptable to ask the Dark Lord.

"Say what you're thinking, Belby. I can tell what you are thinking, you know."

Eris straightened up in her seat and recalled her father's tales of his legilimency when she returned for summer holidays from Hogwarts. She closed her eyes, tightened her fists and blurted out, "Won't Crouch start resisting the curse soon enough?"

"I only need him in power for so long. Politics is a fun game to play. Scandals lead to one of my willing subjects to be nominated as Minister. Any suggestions?"

Eris shook her head side to side and avoided his piercing gaze.

"I always thought Thaddeus Nott would make a good politician. He's decided to have a go at acquiring Wizarding media instead."

"S-so who do you want?"

"Lucius Malfoy. Shame he's so young though. Means the opposition will be harder to fight," his eyes darted from her own towards the looming enchanted clock face above the mantelpiece. "Now speaking of opposition, I need your assistance in dealing with some of them. I take it you are willing to do what I ask of you now, Miss Belby?"

"Yes, I will."

"You may be familiar with Catherine Morrell."

A shiver flowed through her spine and her toes curled in her boots. She nodded silently. A flash of the raven-haired Cathy danced through her consciousness. Cathy's beaming smile coursing through her brain.

"This Morrell child has been stirring up trouble in the Ministry. Inciting strikes, riots and rebellion among your ranks at the Ministry."

"I didn't know that was happening, mi-"

"She has proven more troublesome than Dumbledore and his pathetic Order combined these past few days. The last weekend has involved me filling papers with distracting propaganda from these," his face twisted into a sneer, "displays of insubordination."

"So what do you want me do?" Eris questioned, trying her best to maintain eye contact.

"Dispose of her."

"What?" she spat.

"If you want to become one of us, Miss Belby, you must get your wand dirty at some point."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve – Dirty Wanded**

Eris could not stop staring at a photograph stuck to one of her bedroom walls. Its edges torn and creased as two witches embraced for the camera. Both her and Cathy in black-and-white emblazoned in their Hogwarts uniform. Their faces still round from youth but the overapplied eyeliner indicated to her that it was from fourth year this photograph. One of Cathy's hazel eyes winked at her and a lump formed in her throat.

She did not know what to do. Her only shot at power involved a sacrifice greater than she expected. Even though their friendship had faded and separated thanks to ideological differences, she did not anticipate their paths to cross so violently in adult life. Wartime was not quite as simple as she had expected.

The footsteps of her father grew louder until they stopped at her door. He tapped it gently before sauntering in. Eris flashed him a quick glance before looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes glassy from threatening tears.

Damocles had held up surprisingly well during the winter, his weight remained stable and his face regained some of his beetroot red colouring. But still he was sick. "I take it you got dumped by another fella, again?"

Eris returned a sneer, "I haven't had a boyfriend in some time, daddy," her hand patted against the mattress she was perched on.

"You've been a good girl since you left school, haven't you?" her father mocked before plonking himself on her dressing table stool.

"I suppose I'd made you more proud than back then," she sighed.

"I know you saw him, again, Eris."

"Him? You mean the Dark Lord?"

"Not best to talk about him so loud…"

Eris' face screwed up, "Dad, he's in power."

"What?"

"Barty Crouch Sr. is…. I suppose a you-know-who supporter."

Damocles' maroon eyes widened in shock, "What Barty? I thought he was the biggest anti-Dark Lord sycophant there was. Always chasing wizards skilled at dark magic."

Eris smirked, "Not anymore."

"I'm very glad you're in his ranks now," Damocles grinned, "you even had a one-on-one meeting with him."

"Nothing special, daddy."

Damocles laughed, "Nothing special? Took me much longer to get that. Wants you as one of his own, that man does."

"How can you be sure?"

"You only get those meetings before you get your dark mark," he looked into the distant wistfully.

Eris stroked her left forearm, "I won't get it until I do something."

"Ooh, a task," he marvelled with his eyes twinkling, "must be a good one."

She scoffed in return, "Oh, it's good alright."

"What is it, then?"

Eris looked at him in silence. Her lips downturned.

"Oooh, is it confidential?"

"No," she replied curtly.

He snapped, "Then what on earth is it, child?"

"I-I-I… I have to _deal_ with someone."

"Oh, that?" dismissed Damocles before patting his daughter on her shoulder, "I've done that before."

Eris recoiled from her father's large hand patting her back and shuffled away from him on the edge of the mattress.

"We all have to do it, one day, Eris," Damocles groaned. "There's no need to be such a coward."

"A coward?"

"Dark magic has dark consequences, what have I told you, Eris?" He tutted before resting his hand on his lap. "I think doing this assignment is your only choice."

"Huh?"

"You know a lot already," he explained, "you know more than me and he isn't going to take your rejection too well."

"What?"

"Basically, if you don't do it… he might 'deal' with you too."

"So it's my life or their life?"

He nodded, "I wouldn't worry though. Your first is always the worst. You'll get used to it."

Eris looked at her father's wand, its tip peeking from his robe pocket. It did not look dirty but she was horrified to just learn that it was.

* * *

Bubbles of anxious nausea had ruminated in Eris' stomach for days. She felt it flip whenever she remembered the task ahead of her. She shuddered when she realised the choice was between her and Cathy's life. The thought, despite her best attempts, kept reappearing in her consciousness. Her solution was simple, to discuss with an old acquaintance how best to do it. She needed advice from a guiltlessly dirty-wanded wizard like Evan Rosier. On things like how to abate the guilt and not just to utter the incantations necessary to cause death.

She could not think of a meeting place other than the Hog's Head Inn. To the landlord's delight, the place had been packed since Barty Crouch Sr. had taken over the Ministry. The cloaked figures had removed their hoods and proclaimed their deviance proudly. The Carrow siblings' snickering was only a table away from the silent Eris nursing her third gillywater. The dirty floor had disintegrated into puddles of split liquor and more candles had been lit from the increased custom. The bay window had been freshly cleaned and she looked longingly at the dark night sky with starlight ahead of her.

Evan Rosier, appeared late as always. His body swaggering through the door frame towards Eris' empty table. His royal blue robes starkly contrasting from his pale white skin. His face broke into a large grin of recognition as he threw himself in the seat beside her.

"So, so, so, Eris?" he chuckled.

She raised her eyebrows and sipped her gillywater in silence.

"I heard you needed some advice of a task he's set you," he continued to smile as he leant back on his chair. "Flattered you asked me, mind."

She let out an audible groan before turning to him, "I want more than just logistics of course."

"First one, eh?" he asked.

"What, drink?"

He scoffed, "No…. you know… first time _dealing_ with someone."

She nodded as she looked at her empty glass.

"I'd recommend poison."

"What? Rosier… I told you I didn't want to discuss methods."

"No, it's more than that, Belby."

"How?"

"You've always been too much of a soft touch to enjoy it," he replied. "I think it's a gentler way for her to go. You won't bail out so easily."

"And poison? Is that supposed to assuage my guilt, Rosier?"

"Guilt?" he laughed, "we've not even got drinks and you're discussing guilt?"

"Well some of us are capable of feeling it."

"Guilt's nothing, think of the good you're doing dealing with her."

"The good? She used to be my friend and-"

Rosier interrupted, "But she's not one of your friends anymore. She doesn't believe in what you believe. She doesn't even like you by the sounds of it in your letter."

"But that isn't a reason to-"

"No, the biggest reason to do it is simple."

"And?"

"If you want to become one of us… or even stay alive… you'll need to deal with her."

She sighed and placed her glass onto the sticky wooden table. "So what poison would you recommend?"

"Don't ask me!"

"Then who am I supposed to ask?"

"Try that Snape bugger."

"What, Snape?" she snorted. "Only chance he'd help me if I was poisoning myself."

"He'd tell you how to do it without getting traced down, though."

Eris shook her empty tumbler glass at Rosier, "So drinks, yeah?"

"Better poison than what Snape will make you," smirked Rosier.

* * *

Rosier had described to Eris the location she would have to apparate to in order to meet up with Severus Snape. He had described it as a muggle dump called Cokeworth with a putrid river littered by crisp packets and boarded up terraced houses. Eris was assured it was the place that she was first escorted to when she demonstrated an interest in becoming one of the Dark Lord's followers.

At least now as she stood in the winter cold outside of Snape's boarded up door, it was not raining like the last time she was here. The river was overflowing onto the cobbled streets and the mill tower hidden by thick clouds threatening snow. The wood planks boarding up the front door disappeared, leaving only the chipped green door to swing open.

"What is it, Ditsy?" groaned Severus as the latch hid most of his dark eyes.

"Don't call me that, Snape. Rosier sent me."

He fiddled with the latch before gesturing her into the living room and he shut the door behind her.

She sat down on the edge of the threadbare sofa with her hands resting on her knees. "You know why Rosier sent me, right?"

"I might."

"Well, I came to you for advice."

"How touching," he sneered as he sat down into his armchair, "Belby is yet again asking me for potions advice."

"Oh, I apologise," Eris sarcastically replied, "I'm sure your busy schedule can handle an inquiry."

"You used to demand my tuition in potions at school," he snarled, "that idiot Slughorn kept suggesting it. And you call yourself the daughter of the great Damocles Belby."

Eris snapped, "And what do you call yourself? The son of a great… muggle?"

"From what I heard," he relaxed back into his seat, his legs crossed, "your father was the son of a great… muggle gardener."

Her nose scrunched up, "Is it true what Evans said?"

His back straightened and his brows lowered, "And pray what did… Evans say?"

"That your dad was a good for nothing drunk."

"I'm surprised you listened to idle gossip at school. Since most of it was about you."

She huffed, "Just because I had more fun than you at-"

"Oh yes," he smirked, "fun with Rosier… Black… Wilkes… what was that Hufflepuff boy called?"

"Enough," she hissed.

He rose from his seat, "I suppose I best get a drink as the son of a good-for-nothing drunk, shall I Eris?"

"May I have one too?"

She heard him raise his voice as he rooted through the kitchen, "Only if you promise to behave."

"Fine," she groaned loudly, rolling her eyes.

He handed her a half-filled wine glass before sitting back down with his own. She sipped the acidic liquid, ignoring it burn in her gullet. "Urgh, muggle wine."

"You get used to the taste," he commented as he sipped on his glass.

"This task, the Dark Lord has assigned you… does it have a specific deadline?"

She shook her head and took a large gulp of wine.

"So I assume he wants it sooner rather than later," he placed the wine glass on the coffee table, "he is not only doing this to test your loyalty."

"What else, then?"

"He's doing it to test your gall."

"My what?"

"He's testing your ability to cope with the… darker sides of magic. To cope with the darker sides of humanity and to test your strength of character to not crumble in its presence."

She blinked in silence and gripped her wine glass tighter.

"If you prove that you can do this," he leant towards her, "he is willing to let you ascend his ranks at a… quick pace."

"So basically," she took another sip and continued, "if I deal with… her… I'll definitely become a Death Eater?"

"My best advice to separate yourself from your enemies. Detach yourself emotionally and no longer refer to them as her. They are just obstacles to your future."

"What if… what if you used to be friends?"

"Then separating yourself from them will be more difficult."

"Have you ever-"

"If you're asking me if I've ever had a part in another person's death, then you know the answer, Belby. If not, I doubt your intelligence even more than usual."

"No," she shook her head, "I mean have you ever had to do it to someone you used to be close to?"

His eyes narrowed for a moment, "Not yet."

She looked at him in silence, his gaze not faltering. His cold black eyes not moving at any point. The only noise was the crackling of a dying fire.

She cleared her throat, "Poison."

He raised an eyebrow, "Is that your method of choice?"

"Rosier suggested it."

He snorted, "Unlike him. He always like to get his hands dirty."

"But he knows I don't."

"Poison may be a safe bet in the inexperienced wizard."

"But she isn't inexperienced."

"I don't know who… she… is… but if she passed potions then she is."

"But what happens in an experienced wizard?"

"They'll have an antidote lying around somewhere. Especially if their political allegiances make them vulnerable to attack."

"So all poisons have an antidote?"

He shot her a disappointed look, "Did your father never explain the simplest poison antidote there is?"

She shrugged, "If he did, I never listened."

"A goat's bezoar."

"And that deals with… every poison?"

"Most any normal wizard or witch could brew quickly."

Her heart sank. Her mother had died from poisoning herself. Was her antidote just a stone from a hooved animal's gastrointestinal tract?

* * *

Severus had given her a thick leatherbound tome simply titled "The Art of Poison." He reluctantly gave it to her and hissed to her repeatedly to take proper care for it. Each chapter was dedicated to another unique method of bottled torture or death. From descriptions of draughts piercing open stomach linings to others suffocating you slowly in your own fluids, each page turn showed her a plethora of gruesome methods. At last through the hours of reading, hunched over her bedroom dressing table, she reached the page of antidotes. The margins of some pages had been defaced by spiky black scrawling annotating critique of the author's work.

As much as she tried not to, she spent a whole hour staring at the same few paragraph. Not a single scrawling disagreed with this printed paragraph.

 _"Poisoning is not an effective manner to dispose of enemies with sufficient magical knowledge. Unlike the world of Dark Arts or even malicious transfigurations or charms, most poisons brewed by wizards have well-known antidotes. While the art of creating specific antidotes requires an adequate education and understanding of potioneering laws, most poisonings can be halted or delayed by the use of simple remedies such as a goat's bezoar."_

Her father said he had found her mother alive. With the empty bottle of poison in her hand. The one she used to take her own life. Where was the bezoar she needed?


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen – Dinner for Two**

Tonight was a special occasion. Or so Eris was led to believe by the candles lit on the usually neglected dinner table. The best china laid on top of faded place mats and the chipped oak table covered in a crisp white tablecloth. The freshly polished silverware lay next to folded napkins. For now, she sat alone at her dining table under the instruction of her father and stared at the empty plate before her. His booming voice echoing from the hall towards the dining room. The words indistinguishable to Eris.

He limped in and plonked himself on his seat. His wand flourished towards their plates and their main course appeared before them. Duck breast.

"I've been chatting with Augustus Rookwood about your work," he explained as he cut into his fatty duck breast, "the work with the Dark Lord."

"And?" Eris asked as she picked up her cutlery.

"He's informed me that sooner than later, my own flesh and blood," he looked at his daughter with a beaming smile, "is to become one of his inner circle."

"Not yet, daddy," she took her first bite of her meal.

"Oh, that pesky little task he's set you… you need to pull your socks up and get on with it."

She sighed and clanged her cutlery against her plate, "Get on with it? A human life ending from a flick of my wand… a human life ending-"

Damocles interrupted her with a chuckle, "Wizards should be equipped to deal with death. You know what death is already, Eris. With your poor mother…"

"About her…" Eris' voice trailed off.

"Yes?"

"How did she… die again?"

He snorted and dropped his cutlery onto his almost empty plate, "Why are you asking this? You already know, you stupid girl."

"Suicide, yeah," Eris replied with a tone of disbelief in her voice. "How did she really die?"

"She took her own life with poison."

"Tell me the truth, father," she growled.

"She brewed herself a poison and I found her too late to give her an antidote. I've explained this already be-"

Eris cleared her throat, her intense stare frightening her father, "Bullshit, father."

He huffed, "Are you excusing me of lying of such a tragedy?"

Eris leant back into her chair and folded her arms, "With this task I've been set, I've been researching poisonings."

Her father's brown eyes widened and his red face drained of colour. He remained uncharacteristically silent.

"You don't need to brew a N.E.W.T level antidote to poisonings, you lying bastard. If you wanted to save my mum's life, you would have known to shove a bezoar down her throat."

He justified himself, "But they don't work for every poison!"

She hissed, "I can see the guilt in your eyes, father." She felt around in her robe pocket and produced a goat bezoar. She dropped it in the centre of the table. "You had several of these in your stock cupboard."

"I-I-I… might have not then."

She sneered, "Admit the truth, you bastard. I've been thinking about this for a few days now, researching every way that my doubts could have been wrong. Researching to try and find that my father isn't a murderous bastard," tears formed in her grey eyes, "but no. You killed her, didn't you… _daddy_?"

He took a sharp breath and looked into his tearful daughter's eyes, "I.. I… I would never…"

"Yes, you would," Eris snapped. "You killed werewolves. You forcefed them potions that killed them. You would have done the same to mother."

He bit his lip and looked open-eyed at his furious daughter.

"You killed my mother, Desdemona Belby. Didn't you, precious father? Guilty as charged. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner. You killed her just because you couldn't handle the shame of a werewolf wife."

"No, no, no, I wouldn't-"

"Like you can't handle the shame of a failure of a daughter," she smirked. "I'll try and make sure to make you proud, father." She took her first gulp of red wine and her eyes glinted under the candlelight. She shot him another defiant smirk as she flourished her wand and apparated into thin air. Leaving only her plate of half-eaten food behind.

* * *

34 Cherryclough Lane had changed during the cold winter. All the trees leafless, the flowers withered under frost and slush-like snow covering the pavements. Eris was most impressed that she managed not to apparate into Cathy's flowerbeds again but in fact in an alleyway beside her house. The wooden fence scratching and clinging onto her robes. She groaned as she peeled the threads of her cloak away from the splintering fence.

She peered into the front garden and saw that the curtains were drawn and no light was shining through the windows. No muggle car remained on the driveway. It appeared that nobody was home, but Eris assumed that this was just a protective enchantment. So she walked towards the door, the slush squashing under her boots and knocked loudly at the PVC door.

She knocked again. No sounds of movement in the hallway of the house. Just buzzing silence through the letter box. She gripped her wand and shot a piercing white bolt of lightning through the letterbox. She heard an audible groan through the door.

It swung open to reveal a tired looking Cathy. Bags heavy under her usually bright hazel eyes. Her hair tied back and an unwelcoming expression upon her face. "What do you want, Eris?"

Eris was taken aback, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"No," Cathy hissed.

Eris snorted and ignored her friend's protested. She pushed through her friend and shut the door behind them. "What has gotten over you, Cathy?"

"What has gotten over you, Eris?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"You're one of them," Cathy coldly stated. Her eyes returning Eris' gaze with a piercingly icy stare.

"One of what?"

Cathy hissed, "You know what, Eris."

"I-I-I'm not…"

"I don't welcome Death Eaters into my home."

"I-I-I'm not a Death Eater!" protested Eris.

"You will be soon enough."

"So you won't even ask why I came?" Eris replied, the stinging sensation of tears were threatening her eyes.

"No, just go and don't speak to me again." Cathy growled, pushing her friend back towards the door with force.

"But why do you think I'm one?"

"Fucking hell, do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, but… what the hell has cast you to believe that I'm a Death Eater?"

"As if I'd tell you that, you backstabbing bitch," she replied quietly, her voice laced with hatred and venom.

Eris remained silent. Tears streaming down her eyes, the hot flush of sadness waving over her face as her friend walked away from her. Cathy's pink dressing gown floating behind her as she walked back up the stairs. She was alone. Completely and utterly alone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen – Career Advice**

Eris was only carrying her wand and dressed in thin robes outside of 34 Cherryclough Lane. Utterly unsuitable for tonight's weather. Sleet blew in her face as the winds picked up, her only warmth from charming her robe. Her breath hung in the air, their smoke trails visible under the orange glow of streetlights.

She thought as she was staring into the distance, her eyes folded and eyes closed. The tears had dried on her cheeks, the blistering cold air turning her ears numb. She summoned to think of any remaining friends she could go to for aid. Her Ravenclaw friends had distanced themselves from her over the years. If she ran into them at the Ministry, they'd awkwardly answer hello and flee as quickly as possible. She knew Cathy Morrell had a tendency to gossip so knew murmurs of her true allegiance would be prevalent among their peers.

Then a dark thought entered her mind. Her only family now were fellow followers of the Dark Lord. The people her precious father Damocles Belby had thrusted upon her through manipulation were now her only solace. If only her old friend Cathy knew. A sardonic grin formed on Eris' face. Her only family left were Death Eaters. She had decided to make a detour to Cokeworth, the only place that would serve her free wine and company at such late notice. Even if the host was far from gracious and hospitable.

* * *

Cokeworth had experienced much more snow and when she apparated by the river bank, she was already ankle deep in soft white snow as a blizzard swarmed around her head. She trekked through the virgin snow as she batted away the flurry of snow ahead of her with her wand. She could not feel the cobbled street under her feet as it was covered in a thick blanket of snow. However, she recognised the boarded up house she was trying to visit and knocked loudly at the door. Her fists banging at the door barely audible over the howling wind.

A familiar pallid face answered the door and scrutinised the shivering woman at the door. He was still dressed in black robes and the smell of alcohol hit Eris' face. Without a word, he undid the latch and welcomed her into his house.

His living room was even gloomier than usual, only meagre candlelight and a humble fire kept it from entering pitch blackness. It felt more claustrophobic than it did previously as additional layers of books had been added to the bookshelves. She looked down at her feet and noticed she was dripping from melting snow. She summoned away the puddle beneath her feet and removed her shoes. He gave her shoeless feet a disapproving sneer.

"Welcoming yourself to my property again, Belby?" drawled Severus.

"I came to you for advice."

"What, again? Please tell me you haven't misplaced the book I loaned you already, not all of us can afford the luxury of burning books," smirked Severus.

She rolled her eyes and paced around the room, her cold finger tracing at the spines of books all with enticing titles. "It may be a shock but I came to you for advice."

"Are you particularly dense today, Belby? You just repeated yourself," he said as he began pacing towards the dark kitchen clutching his illuminated wand.

Eris noticed on the coffee table, an empty bottle of wine alongside a dirty wine glass. He had been drinking alone.

"Drinking alone, I see," commented Eris as she smoothed down the threadbare sofa. She sat down reluctantly.

He had returned again with the social lubricant known as wine with an additional glass for Eris. He slammed them onto the dusty coffee table. "I suppose I'm not anymore, not like I had much choice in the matter."

She helped herself to the wine, pouring a liberal glass and wolfed down a full glass in a handful of gulps. Her lips stained purple and a pang of revulsion ruminating in her stomach.

"I take it you had a bad day today."

"What's your excuse?" guffawed Eris.

"I also had a bad day."

"What happened?"

He grimaced and ignored her question, "So advice… what is it this time? Have you forgotten the incantation to the killing curse?"

"There's no need to be so rude, Severus," groaned Eris. "I came to you because I couldn't think of anyone else."

"Again, flattery, Belby…"

"I mean… you're the most like me now…"

He snorted and placed down his glass, "In what faculty am I like you?"

"I-I-I," she felt his intense black eyes staring at her coldly, "We're both outsiders now."

He shot her a perplexed look, "Outsiders?"

"I mean, I just found out something… something… utterly unapprehensiveable about my father. My friends from school have abandoned me. All I have now is the Dark Lord."

"And all I have is the Dark Lord?"

"Please don't take offence, Severus. But neither of us have family. Neither of us have pureblood and neither of us have many friends."

"Friends? You mean your friends from school?" Eris nodded and he continued, "Your friends that snickered behind your back. Your friends that didn't accept you for who you are?"

"Your friends did that too."

He nodded in acknowledgement and took another sip of wine, "Yes, but I never regarded them, or you, as friends. Just acquaintances."

"And how about now?"

"You're still the same annoying acquaintance you were when I was sixteen."

Eris sighed, "What's it like being a… Death Eater?"

His brow furrowed, "Better than not being one."

She brushed her frizzy hair from her face, "I… I… think I want to do the task sooner rather than later."

"Then, may I ask what's stopping you?"

"I did something stupid," she admitted, looking at her feet in embarrassment.

"Did you accidently cast a charm on her instead of a curse or something?"

She snorted, "No, worse than that," she shook her head and continued, "I visited her tonight."

"And was the intention to kill her?"

She took a sharp breath, "No, it wasn't. I wanted to talk to her about my father. But she knows."

"Knows what?"

"She knows I'm one of you."

He snarled, "What did you tell her? You bumbling idiot."

"I told her nothing. I don't know how she knows. But she does."

They spent until the early hours of the morning discussing appropriate methods for dealing with Cathy Morrell alongside Eris admiring his extensive book collection. He eventually began to tolerate her pawing at his precious hoard of books on the Dark Arts as more wine entered his system. They debated about the politics of the Dark Lord's takeover, the eventual plan of Lucius Malfoy to replace Barty Crouch Sr. as the Minister of Magic and how Thaddeus Nott was days away from buying all of Wizarding Britain's media.

At some point, Eris must have drifted asleep because she woke up in the early morning light peeking through cracks in the dark velvet curtains. Her neck stiff and her eyes sore. Her robes creased from her contorted sleeping frame. Three empty bottles of wine side by side on the coffee table. She looked around the room for Severus but he must have retired to bed.

She rose gawkily from the sofa and wondered barefoot into the grimy kitchen. She picked up a glass and turned the tap on. She gulped down the lukewarm glass of water whilst looking into the dismal back garden. It was a tiny garden with high cement walls but made beautiful by deep snow. The only footprints on it were of wildlife, forked feet of robins and pawprints of cats. She cracked a smile and decided to try and hunt down breakfast in the kitchen cupboards.

Inspecting each cabinet led to disappointing finds of dried rice, tins of unappetising muggle food or even more alcohol. Upon opening the fourth cupboard door, her eyes widened upon seeing some bread behind a row of cans. She bent down and pulled out the loaf of bread. But unaware of her still intoxicated state, her elbow bashed down against the tins and they all tumbled out of the cupboard with a thunderous rumble.

She gasped as she heard footsteps creaking in the floor above her. She felt a temporary jolt of fear as they became quieter. She poured herself another glass of water, still lukewarm and shuffled back towards the living room.

"Not even going to pick up after yourself, Eris?" a cold voice purred quietly.

Eris leapt in her skin and behind her was Severus. She realised that the fallen oven tins of food remained on the peeling linoleum kitchen floor. She whimpered, "Sorry," and began to pick them up from the ground.

"I wouldn't make yourself at home, I'm not accepting a lodger," he stated as his hand held onto a countertop. He watched her picking up the cans expressionless.

"Aren't you even a bit hungover?"

"No," he folded his arms, "I'm pretty sure your Ministry salary can fumble together enough for some robes and a night in the Hog's Head Inn."

Eris had placed the final tin of food back into the cupboard and quietly shut it. She rose from the ground and asked, "Is it less busy now?"

He nodded, "I think the excitement has died down about the end of the Wizarding War."

Eris finished her second glass of water, "What you getting up to today?"

"Errands."

She sighed, "You don't have to tell me specifics but you must have some sort of job."

"Freelance potioneer."

"Poor you."

"Beats being Rookwood's little piece on the side."

She huffed, "Rookwood and I aren't shagging."

"I know that."

She blinked, "How can you be so sure?"

"He… how would I put this delicately?" pondered Severus.

"Delicately… for the broomstick of Ravenclaw?" Eris laughed as she pointed towards herself.

"Hmm… Rookwood is unable to."

"Lord, what do you guys discuss in Death Eater meetings?"

"Not so much discuss… but discuss their consequences."

"You mean the cruciatus curse?"

"It does have a myriad of side-effects in overuse."

"I can read, Severus. But does it affect everyone the same way?"

"I don't think so, otherwise how could Malfoy conceive his son?"

"I… I haven't had it done to me yet, is it really that bad?"

He shot her another disappointed look, "Yes, why else would he use it?"

"How do you cope with it?"

He brushed his greasy hair from his face, "I avoid it."

"I'll try and take note."

* * *

Aberforth Dumbledore had welcomed her custom with much more gusto than before as he looked over his shoulder as various cloaked wizards cackled in his direction. Luckily, he seemed completely unaware of her tarnished reputation and still saw her pure as winter snow compared to the dark arts these wizards were shamelessly flaunting in public. Snippets of conversations include discussion of best situation for unforgiveable curses or other unique ways to kill wizards. It was peculiar that eavesdropping might prove useful for the novice assassin, Eris Belby.

"You did a good job at cleaning up the room, girl," Aberforth complimented Eris as he escorted her up the creaking stairs to the room. "Left it a bloody better state than most of my visitors recently."

He closed the door behind her and Eris was not surprised to find another dusty neglected bedroom before her. She placed her tan leather trunk onto the bedspread and opened it, revealing new robes and books that she had just purchased. She saw the dust float in the air through the sunrays shining through the murky windows.

She had spent her Sunday sleeping off her wine-induced hangover but otherwise was well enough to forcefeed herself some pumpkin soup and plenty of gillywater. She was not looking forward to work tomorrow. Rookwood still leering in her direction, probably. She shuffled to her bed and slept still dressed in her day robes.

Soon, she awoke in the darkness of a December morning. She could see that the sun had not yet rising through the window but the clock declared it to be half past seven in the morning. The pub was no longer murmuring with life below her but now was completely silent. The only noises were the creaks of the old building.

She quickly washed herself and dressed in her work robes still creased in her trunk. She grumbled out an ironing charm and the fabric smoothed over. Her stomach rumbled in hunger but she decided it would be best to head to her department as early as possible. The more hours she worked, the better the pay she'd receive and the quicker she could leave this dump.

Rummaging through her open trunk, she pulled out a large vial of glittering floo powder. She tapped her wand at the dirty fireplace in her room and threw down the powder into the fireplace floor before bellowing, "Ministry of Magic."

Her footsteps echoed through the empty atrium. It was not even eight o'clock in the morning and the only workers in the Ministry would be cleaning staff or aurors. But luckily neither was dwelling in the long hallway. She rushed up the flight of stairs and entered her Department, grumbling at the early morning puzzle of the ten doors ahead of her. She had finally remembered months later than it was always the fourth door to the entrance of the Department of Mysteries.

She walked down the long dark hallway, made of stone and only lit by blue candlelight. The workstations for each Unspeakable and their apprentice remained empty. The lack of paperwork following the weekend confused Eris. Each desk was barren of any evidence of work. She found her desk for Unspeakable Number Nine a.k.a Augustus Rookwood. Just as empty as the others. The ink on her quill dry and the logbook had absolutely nothing in it. Not even the dates she wrote into it last week.

Her ears twitched as she heard footsteps down the hall. Firm footsteps became louder and louder. She illuminated her wand and stalked down the hall, looking out for the unknown wizard. She was hoping it would be the overzealous cleaner than absconded with all their paperwork. Or some sort of power hungry bureaucrat that had made them undergo a parchment saving measure. But no, the familiar grey haired Rookwood looked upon her. Clutching onto a box filled with his belongings.

"It's over, Eris," Rookwood stated matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"It's over, the Department of Mysteries is over," Rookwood reiterated.

"What?! Why?"

"Didn't you get the owl I sent to your house?"

Eris shook her head side to side, "But why?"

"Cost-saving measures. I tried my best to argue against it, but," he sighed, " _he_ didn't agree that our work is important."

"So, what are we going to do?"

Rookwood placed his box onto his workstation, "I've got a position back in Magical Law Enforcement, you've got to reapply for another Ministry job I'm afraid."

Eris' jaw dropped, "So I'm… I'm unemployed?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen – The Prodigal Daughter**

She nervously waited outside the door of her childhood home. The stone walls filled her heart with sorrow and not joy as they had done many years ago. She winced as she banged her fist against the thick wood door. She groaned as she heard their father's stumbling footsteps and booming voice declare, "Who is it at this time? It's only nine in the morning!"

He opened the door and jumped backwards at the sight of his daughter.

"I've been made redundant," announced Eris.

Damocles sneered at his daughter, "Why should I let you back in?"

"I-I… I am just coming to collect my things."

Damocles tried to close the door but Eris' arm held it open, "You mean the things, I… paid for?"

"I'm paying for everything now, if that appeases you... father."

Damocles snorted, "Good luck to you, you silly little bitch."

Again, Eris resisted her father's attempts to close the door on her. Her foot remained firmly between the door and its frame. "You won't get rid of me that easily, Damocles."

"Oh will you?" Damocles dared his daughter, brandishing his wand. He leant towards her, his hot breath blowing into her freckled face, "I can destroy you with a single flick of my wand."

Eris' wand blasted open the door in a flash of magenta and Damocles tumbled onto the ground. His knees crumpled again the polished wooden floor. Eris slammed the front door behind and pointed her wand at her father's temple.

"Don't aggravate me," Eris warned and began to walk away.

Suddenly, her father's hand gripped her ankle. His thick fingers leaching her foot of any circulation as he tugged her ankle towards him. "I'll do anything to protect the Belby name. Anything."

Eris looked down at her winded father and whispered, "Stupefy!" His hand grew limp around her ankle and he crumbled into a ball on the ground. His greasy bald head squeaking against the floor. She opened the glass doors from the hallway and entered the drawing room. She scanned the room for any memorabilia that appealed to her. But none existed. Only her father's Order of Merlin mounted proudly upon the stone mantelpiece. She considered smashing it but realised she only had a few minutes time before her spell would wear off.

She rushed up the stairs and entered her room. She plonked her scrying orb into her bag, it took a moment to plonk into the bottom of the enchanted bag. She continued to search through the bookcase for the book she borrowed from Severus or any other photographs she wanted to take with her. Cathy's beaming smile caught the corner of her eye and her eyes twinkled in their school photograph together. Eris shot a jolt of flame towards the portrait and the aged photograph turned to ash.

* * *

Eris walked out of her room at the Hog's Head Inn with a dour expression and headed down to the bar. She quickly scanned behind the bar for the grey-haired Aberforth and found him polishing a glass absent-mindedly.

"Excuse me, sir?" Eris whimpered.

"Yes?" he answered, walking towards her.

"I-I-I… don't know how to say this but I can't pay for tomorrow's rent."

"And what are you going to do about it?" he replied gruffly.

"I just got made redundant from the Ministry, I hope you understand," she said looking at her feet.

"I'm not sure my bank balance would understand that, Miss Belby."

Eris just blinked at him in silence, her hands wringing one another in nerves.

"But I do have a suggestion."

"Yes?" she asked tentatively.

"Ever since the end of the war, business has been booming as you know," he placed his polished glass onto a shelf. "I know you've got a good hand at duelling after that raid," he winked in acknowledgement, "so you'd make a good barmaid."

"How does duelling make a good barmaid?"

"You've seen this place?" he asked in disbelief, "only way you'll survive behind this bloody bar is overpowering rowdy customers with magic. That's why it's so hard to hire someone."

"What about everything else?" Eris gestured towards the row of spirits behind him.

"Oh, that," he responded dismissively, "even muggles can bartend, how hard can it be?"

Eris had been instructed by Aberforth in the basics of the bar, pouring out servings of spirits, enchanting drinks down towards the customer's table for tips and being able to work a magical till without setting it on fire. Even bloody Aberforth had heard of her setting a book on fire in her last shop job.

As Eris' heart slowed and she had time to accumulate her thoughts polishing another glass, she had realised something that her new boss had just said to her. He had seen her duel in the raid at the Inn. He had seen her overpower and imprint false memories in both James Potter and Sirius Black. He must have known her true allegiance. She focused all of her energy in not shattering the glass in this frightening prospect. No wonder Cathy knew.

It was only three o'clock in the afternoon and the tables were buzzing with life. Mostly foreign wizards muttering illegal bootlegging or trade today. Not so many Death Eaters or familiar faces. According to Aberforth, the rowdier crowd would be crashing in during the evening. He was right. Eris' feet began to ache as she spent the next hours stood up smiling at customers asking her for orders in broken English. The odd inappropriate comment was not an alien concept to Eris, but was more comical coming from a vampire confusing the word sick for suck in his failed flirtations.

As warned, a two arguing young men entered the room. Evan Rosier in midnight blue robes with a deviant grin in his face, only halted when he clocked his blue eyes onto the distracted Eris. Mulciber with ruddy skin and brown hair elbowed Rosier as he pointed in Eris' direction and let out an audible laugh. Eris slammed down the empty pint glass onto the bar surface and her eyebrows lowered.

Rosier walked towards the bar with his fingers stroking through his auburn hair. He leant comfortably arm first onto the bar, smiling maliciously at the bar, "Bit of a downgrade from the Department of Mysteries, eh?"

"Come to gloat, Rosier?" she coldly replied.

"Wasn't my intention but I might as well enjoy myself as a paying customer," he grinned as he tapped his fingernails against the sticky bar. "Maybe you should clean some more, eh?"

Eris suppressed a groan and forced a toothy smile, "Sir, what would you like to order?"

Rosier chuckled and Mulciber behind him joined in. "One slapper and two pints of your cheapest beer."

Eris bit her lip, "That will be-"

"Didn't you just hear him, you stupid idiot? He called you a slapper!" Mulciber declared.

She sighed, "Wouldn't be the first time."

Rosier handed her several galleons, "Keep the change." Both wizards walked off with their quickly conjured pints and Eris had received her first ever tip. The galleons burnt in her hands.


End file.
